Dark Mirror
by BKL8008
Summary: The War is over. Hogwarts is being repaired. In this brave new world, a new Dark Lord is rising. His name is Harry James Potter. Canon ships. While I appreciate all the follows and fav's, I could use some reviews and thoughts. Thanks. And be warned, this story is going to get pretty dark and cover a lot of touchy topics.
1. Chapter 1-Gryffindor Tower

**Dark Mirror X**

In the canon books, Harry Potter did _not _destroy the Elder Wand as depicted in the movie. His _intention_ was to put it back in Dumbledore's tomb, and to die a natural death without ever using, or having the Elder Wand won from him. It was Harry's belief that this would break the Wand's power, and put an end to the legend. The Resurrection Stone was lost, but Harry _did_ keep the Invisibility Cloak. This was Harry's plan. However, things seldom go as planned...

A new Dark Lord is now rising in the years following The Final Battle.

It's a brave, new world - and it isn't going to be pretty.

That Dark Lord is Harry James Potter...

_**And I saw one of his heads as it were wounded to death; and his deadly wound was healed: and all the world wondered after the beast.**_ - Revelation 13:3, KJV, Holy Bible.

"_That wand's more trouble than it's worth," said Harry. "And quite honestly," he turned away from the painted portraits, thinking now only of the four-poster bed lying waiting for him in Gryffindor Tower, and wondering whether Kreacher might bring him a sandwich there, "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime." - _quote, Harry Potter & The Deathly Hallows, pp. 749. Hardcover, USA edition, first printing, July 2007. ©JK Rowling, Warner Bros., and Scholastic Books.

-**1**-

**Gryffindor Tower**

It was not only unusual, Kreacher the House Elf thought, it was confusing. No, the old Elf told himself, it was downright _unheard _of. In fact, it was a _scandal_! He wasn't sure how to take it, really. In all his life, serving The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Kreacher had been _told_ what to do. True, Master Regulus, especially when he was a little boy, would _ask_ him politely to do things. But Kreacher had always known that the boy knew that the House Elf had to do what he was told to do. It didn't matter that the boy was being genuinely kind, and really _was_ asking him to do it. Kreacher would never have dreamed of saying no.

But now, things were different.

His noble old house, while it still stood, was gone. There were no more Blacks to serve, and that pained Kreacher. Master Sirius, even though he'd loathed him, had been the last male heir to die childless, and in doing so, had left everything to Harry James Potter – his Godson. Kreacher was now the bound servant of this Halfblood Wizard, who was friends with Blood Traitors and Mudbloods.

But all that had changed, hadn't it? Hadn't his time with Dobby shown him that?

That wasn't really the problem, though. In the past few months, Kreacher had undergone a change of heart about his new Master and his friends at Grimmauld Place. Master Harry was doing _exactly _what Master Regulus had done – seeking to bring down the Dark Lord, who was certainly no friend to House Elves. Master Harry had given him the locket, praised him, even trusted him when Kreacher thought him a fool for doing so. And even though he'd never known him, Master Harry honoured Master Regulus, dearly loved Master Sirius, and even wanted to stay in the old house.

And he wanted Kreacher to stay as well.

If he _wanted_ to...

And THAT was the problem.

Master Harry wanted Kreacher to do what _Kreacher_ wanted to do! He'd said that Kreacher was a good Elf, a brave Elf, for rallying the Hogwarts House Elves to fight in the War, and that no such valiant being should have to be a slave to anyone. _That_ was what they'd fought for. That was they'd _died _for.

Freedom.

It wasn't as if Master Harry had presented Kreacher with _clothes_, no no! Master Harry had asked Kreacher to decide what he _himself_ wanted to, and then to do it.

"Kreacher, you can stay with me, in the house – your old house – and do what you do. But only if that's what you _want _to do. You don't have to stay, but you don't have to go. I'd like it if you'd stay?" Master Harry had told him, nodding. "The choice is yours, my friend."

Almost thunderstruck, Kreacher was at a loss for words. His new master wanted to treat him as an equal, and call him his friend? "Kreacher thinks he understands Dobby better now," he finally managed, "Master Harry is a good man, Kreacher thinks?"

For a while, as they climbed the stairs up to Gryffindor Tower and repaired them along the way, fixing whatever they could, Harry seemed at a loss for words as well. The upper floors on that side of the Castle had taken the least of the damage, and some broken windows and holes in the walls were the worst of it. While neither one of them knew a thing about architecture on a magical scale, it seemed that the important-looking supports and such were not damaged. It wasn't like the roof was going to fall in on their heads, they decided. Even the staircases, those not broken, seemed too tired or traumatized to move.

"I don't know about that, Kreacher," Harry finally sighed, as they greeted the Portrait of the Fat Lady. She was all over weeping, thrilled to see Harry, and opened right up without so much as asking for a password.

Several floors below, the dead body of Lord Voldemort lay in a dark, dusty alcove under heavy guard. The War was over, the Hospital Wing filled with injured, and the dead lying in state in a makeshift morgue in an unused classroom. All throughout the damaged halls, Portrait Residents were finding space to share with their peers in undamaged frames. Gryffindor Tower itself was pretty much intact, and a snap of Kreacher's gnarled old fingers patched the hole in the roof and reassembled a few broken windows.

It pained Harry to see his beloved Castle in such a state, and he desperately wished that there was some method, some secret hidden by the Founders, that might magically repair it.

Unbeknownst to the pair, however, and when they weren't looking, this was exactly what was happening. Broken stones found their own way back to where they'd been blasted from. Dust formed up in small whirlwinds, vanishing back into cracks, and busted timbers and broken panes seemed to be healing of their own volition. Neither of them noticed the odd little symbols carved on each stone or timber, Ancient Runes, that briefly flashed into existence – then vanished again. Quietly, secretly, Hogwarts Castle was healing Herself.

At the top of the last short flight of stairs, Harry paused at the door that he'd never really paid much attention to for the first six years of his school days. It was only a door, but now, he felt the need to savor everything in the Tower that he laid eyes upon. It had been almost a year since he'd seen it, actually. He remembered the trick that Percy had once shown him when he was eleven or twelve, he didn't recall. He winked at the door, and a sign appeared:

**Welcome to Gryffindor! A Weasley had probably already slept in your bed!**

Harry remembered how Percy had been so upset that he couldn't Curse the silly sign off, and he was just certain that Fred and George had put it there to annoy him.

The proper sign read:

**Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory – Seventh Years**

As they entered the room, Harry was filled with a sense of homecoming. The room never changed; the boys never changed rooms. Only the sign on the door changed, until all of its residents were gone and a new batch of Firstie boys would come. For so long, _this_ was where he'd felt he'd always belonged. _This_ was home – not #4 Privet Drive. _This_ was where he _should_ have been for the past year. Not hiding in a tent in the Forest of Dean, or hiding at the Burrow, or hiding at #12, or running for his life in any number of locations. A flick of his wand, and a broken window flew back into place.

But something was wrong.

The room was chilly. The curtains were pulled on three of the five beds. Dean Thomas', Ron Weasley's, and Harry Potter's beds had gone unused for a year. Two of the beds showed signs of use, but they were made up neatly. No one had slept in them for a while, Harry guessed. That wasn't right. Of course, he realized, the two remaining Gryffindors had been hiding out in the Room of Requirement for a while now.

How long had it been since anyone had slept there?

Harry sniffed. The room smelled fresh, though, if not a bit smoky from the air that had drifted in through the broken window. The normal funk that he was so accustomed to was gone. There were no clothes or shoes or robes scattered about the room. Two sets of textbooks were neatly arranged on their shelves. Clothes were pressed and hung up. Spare sets of polished black shoes sat at the foot of the two beds. Harry knew these belonged to Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan, one pair so small that they might have fit a Third or Fourth Year boy.

Seamus' shoes.

Harry looked closer. There was a bit of dust on the pillowcase. No, no one had used these beds in a while. There were old stains on the white pillowcases.

Bloodstains.

Harry felt his temper rising, clutching his holly wand. Sparks shot from the tip, angry red sparks. He recalled Neville's scarred and swollen face, Seamus' black eye and swollen lip, the chipped teeth, the bruises, and how they had both limped a little.

_We should have been here, fighting alongside them,_ Harry thought to himself, cursing, but knowing full well that they could not have been. Even Dean Thomas, suspected Muggleborn, had had to go on the run because of his disputed Blood Status.

Going toward his bed, which seemed to be calling his name, Harry began to realize just how sore and tired he really was. He waved off Kreacher's offers of help and first aid, wondering if there might be at least a pair of pyjama trousers or a dressing gown left in the bureau. Maybe Neville wouldn't mind if he borrowed one of his?

Neville was taller, though, Harry remembered. The roly-poly little round-faced boy that he always pictured in his mind had grown up. "Neville, you have got to start standing up for yourself!" They'd all told him in First Year, when Draco Malfoy had used a Leg-Locker Jinx on him. And he had done just that, standing up to the Carrows, and even Headmaster Snape. He'd finally grown up and destroyed the last of the Horcruxes, Nagini.

Grown up far too quickly...like the rest of them.

Harry flicked his wand again, the restored holly happily doing his bidding without a spoken word. He remembered Professor Snape's words: _Keep your mind open, and you mouth SHUT! _The bed curtains opened, and Harry placed his beloved repaired wand carefully on his pillow. In his pocket, he felt the Elder Wand.

He ignored it.

Then he pulled out Draco Malfoy's hawthorn wand, and placed it on the night stand. He thought he'd return it when he was rested, after everyone had had a chance to rest. He didn't know if the Malfoys, whom he'd seen at the far end of one of the tables in the Great Hall, would even stay, though. For all he knew, Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Aurors might arrest them. One way or another, though, he'd return Draco's wand to him. After what Madame Malfoy had done for him – for them – they deserved that.

It was the right thing to do.

They deserved a bit of dignity.

Harry Potter, of all people, understood what it was like to have to face losing one's family.

_He _understood what the Malfoys had done, and why they'd done it.

Narcissa had offered her life to protect him, to send him on, and for the sake of her own son as well. She had betrayed Voldemort. Perhaps Draco's welfare was the only reason she'd done it, but Harry knew full well (even if Narcissa hadn't) what kind of powerful, what kind of undefeatable _old_ magic she'd summoned only hours before.

Narcissa Malfoy had risked forfeiture of her own life for the sake of her son – an act of love.

She had done what his own mother, Lily, had done...whether she realized it or not.

"The power the Dark Lord knows not," Harry mumbled, realizing that even if he'd been wrong about who was the Master of the Elder Wand, that Voldemort would still have never owned it properly. No, even if he'd known (which he wouldn't have, couldn't have), Voldemort would have then killed Narcissa Malfoy, thus rendering Draco impervious to any Killing Curse he could have cast on the boy.

But would Draco have then challenged Voldemort?

Harry thought he might have, which surprised even himself.

No, he would speak to the Ministry on behalf of the Malfoys. He at least owed Narcissa that much.

"Sir?" Kreacher asked, as Harry sat down hard on the bed. There was a creak, and a tiny puff of dust.

"Kreacher, could you do something for me, please?" Harry asked, his voice betraying how very exhausted he was.

"Of _course_, sir!" Kreacher gasped, "What _else _is Kreacher to do, sir?"

And that was when he'd said it. That was when Master Harry had thrown Kreacher for a loop: "Kreacher, you can stay with me, in the house – your old house – and do what you do. But only if that's what you _want _to do. You don't have to stay, but you don't have to go. I'd _like _it if you'd stay?" Master Harry had told him, nodding, "The choice is yours, my friend." He paused. "But could you...see if the kitchen is OK, and maybe bring me a sandwich? And something to drink? Get yourself a bite, too, if you're of a mind? Please?" Harry blinked at him. "Kreacher, are you quite all right?" He asked, concerned. "You're looking almost...ill?"

"S-s-sandywiches, y-yes!" Kreacher managed, as he snapped his fingers and vanished in a puff of smoke.

He reappeared in the undamaged kitchen, where the other Elves were tending to their wounded. Given their powers, unleashed as they been, there had been no fatalities. There were, however, a great many injuries.

"Kreacher, what's is being wrong?" An older Elf, Blinky, Kreacher thought, asked him.

"You's is not looking goods," Winky agreed.

"S-sandwich, Master wants a sandwich!" Kreacher managed, rummaging about for meat, cheese, and toppings. "Whats does he like? Hams? Cheeses? White or dark breads?" Kreacher used a slice of each. He grabbed up a knife and summoned an onion, which he began to chop. His eyes watered. Winky grabbed his wrist.

"Stops!" She squeaked, "You's is hystorical!"

"'Hysterical,'" another Elf corrected her.

"That too!" Winky gasped, "What's happened?"

"Master says for Kreacher to do...," He paused, feeling ashamed, "Master ASKS us to do what _we_ wants! He says stays or goes, and says 'pleases'!"

The Elves all gasped in shock.

"And he...he shakes our hands, and calls us_ friends_!" Kreacher confessed. Then he put his head down and screamed into his folded arms. The others moved to comfort him, some of them knowing Kreacher's history, and all that he had lost. After all, an Elf without a House was serious matter for them.

"Dobby always saids that Master Harry was different," Winky reminded him. "Dobby loved him, and he thoughts that Harry loves him back."

"What's you gonna DO?!" Another Elf gasped.

"Make a sandwich," Winky shrugged, patting Kreacher's back. "Dobby said two years ago that Master Harry likes anything, but _not _horseyradishes sauces!"

When she was done with making her club sandwich, secured with toothpicks topped with olives and truly a work of art, Winky implored Kreacher to take it to Harry. Then she went to a cupboard, and retrieved a sealed enveloped. The wax stamp bore a symbol of interlocking C's, three of them. "You's is to give this to Harry Potters, too," She added. "Someone's left it for him."

Kreacher snapped out of his funk and grabbed the envelope, running his glowing fingers over it, searching for signs of Curses or Hexes. "Clean!" He declared. "What's is it?"

Winky shrugged. "Some little Gryffindor boy leaves it for him, when school starts this year, when the baddies came!"

Several of the Elves groaned. "We dids what we could, sneaking foods, they never sees us, them Dark Wizards," Blinky explained, "We sneaks, we heals, we gets them foods and medicines, potions," he went on, "And when it's bad-bad, we hides them here, under the sinks, or in the ovens!"

"We hid the boy many times," Winky added, urging Kreacher out the door. "You goes now! We has to cook early lunches, or late breakfastses! Many witches and wizardses here needs to eat!"

"Hurry, before they invades us!" Blinky exclaimed.

Kreacher found Harry nearly dozing, still sitting up, when he returned. Harry gratefully accepted the small meal, then patted the bed beside him. Kreacher nervously sat down next to him.

"If he may, sir, Kreacher thinks this is being highly unusual?" He asked, noting how dirty Harry's hands were as he clutched his sandwich.

"I'm an unusual sort of fellow," Harry mumbled, his mouth half full. Kreacher conjured a napkin. "Kreacher, I want you to consider my offer," Harry went on, "Grimmauld Place may be my _house_ now, but it's_ your_ home. I won't have you forced into serving me, Kreacher. I'll admit, when we first met, I couldn't understand why Sirius hadn't done away with you," Harry grinned at him, "But I'm glad now that he didn't. I think we had a lot of misunderstandings. I don't want you to have to go." He took another bite. "This is really good," He added, "But I think we also understand a lot more things, now. Life is a gift," Harry turned to stare out the widow. For just a moment, he was taken aback.

_Hedwig was pecking at the glass, a letter tied to her leg. Harry jumped out of bed, carefully opened the window, and the white bird hopped in to mount his arm. She playfully nipped at his ear, seeming happy to just have a job. Harry almost never got mail, and the underworked and somewhat plump owl was looking quite pleased with herself. He just knew the letter had to be from Sirius..._

Harry sniffled. Didn't the window used to sit higher? He looked down, and realized that his feet were touching the floor now. The canopy didn't seem to be so high anymore.

"There's something else, too, Kreacher," he continued. "Andromeda Black, Tonks, that is, now has her infant grandson to raise. His parents were killed last night. He's only months old, Kreacher, and I'm his godfather. I don't know a _thing_ about babies, but I want to be a part of his life. I want to be there for him, Kreacher. I don't want him to grow up without a family. I want...I want to give him all the things I never had. I want him to have...to have everything...everything he deserves. I want him to be ...to be safe. I want him to be loved." Harry finished his sandwich, his eyes distant. Kreacher vanished the plate and napkin.

"Kreacher loved Mistress Andy, even when they made her leave the House," the old Elf sighed, "Mistress Andy was always kind to old Kreacher. Is it a little boy, we wonders?"

Harry nodded.

"Teddy Lupin," he informed Kreacher, "The last bit of the House of Black, other than Draco Malfoy, and I think Andromeda is older than Narcissa, so that makes Teddy it?"

Kreacher's ears waved, and his eyes went wide. "Kreacher would like to see Mistress Andy and her grandson," he admitted, "If she will have us." Then he snapped his fingers, and a small framed photo appeared in his hand. It was a baby with dark hair. Kreacher sniffled once, then Vanished the photo. "Kreacher can change a nappie [diaper] just like _that_!" He declared, as if applying for a job.

Harry yawned. "I'm sure they'll be delighted, Kreacher." He offered his hand, and Kreacher took it, looking stunned.

And with that, both Harry and Kreacher knew that the old Elf would be staying on.

It pleased the both of them.

"Master will forgive old Kreacher being blunt, but Master looks like hell," Kreacher said, "Perhaps a bath, then bed? Master could uses a shave? Kreacher will make sure that Master Harry is not bothered."

Harry raised an eyebrow. As tired as he was, he could smell himself. His clothes were wrecked, his shoes ruined, and he could feel the stickiness of drying blood here and there on his body. "I might like having a beard?" He mused, feeling at his chin.

"Uh, no, Master." Kreacher said honestly.

"Kreacher, please don't call me that. My name is Harry."

"Kreacher will tend to his Mast-...friend," the old Elf seemed to order Harry, as he urged him towards the bathroom.

But there was no water. "Must be a busted pipe somewhere, I wonder?" Harry sighed, finding that he'd really been looking forward to a hot bath. "Guess the bath's out?"

"Does we have magic, or _not?_ We has a tub, we has a window, we has a lake," Kreacher snorted, as the window flew open and a jet of water came flying up to fill the tub. Another snap of his fingers, a generous pour of a bath potion, and pleasantly scented steam rose from the bubbles in the tub. Kreacher averted his eyes as Harry disrobed, but as he sank into the water, the old Elf caught a glimpse of him. For just a moment, he saw a laughing little dark-haired boy who was delighted to share his bath toys with Kreacher.

But this was no little boy. The young man before him was lean and chiseled, the months of living off the land and being on the run having hardened him. Numerous small scars, and one ugly larger one on his front, covered his muscled body. He must have been in pain, Kreacher knew, and when Harry handed Kreacher his glasses, the old Elf let go with a carefully placed blast of magic that soothed away Harry's aches. Tiny cuts and burns healed, and bruises vanished under his gaze. Under no restriction to use his magic, as he now understood it, Kreacher began his work.

It wasn't as if he weren't experienced. Master Regulus had given him plenty of practice in the art of first aid.

"What'r you doing?!" Harry gasped, as Kreacher leaned him forward.

"You's is all twisted up," Kreacher told him, feeling at his back with one hand as he wielded a back brush with the other. "Master Regulus was getting like this a lots, needs a chiro-prakky charm, he does!"

"I don't really think you should..."

POP!

"Owww, **shite!**" Harry yelped.

"Holds still," Kreacher said.

CRACK!

Harry groaned in a mix of pleasure and pain as his vertebra realigned.

"Kreacher can fix most of these damages," the old Elf observed, "All buts for the big scar on your fronts."

"That's where...where the last Killing Curse hit," Harry mumbled, sinking down into the bubbles, now totally relaxed for the first time in what felt like years. "I don't think you _can_ heal it, Kreacher."

"Prob'leez not," Kreacher agreed, "Harry Potter lives through two of them?" He wondered.

"Two of them," Harry agreed, "Let's hope, no more."

"Lets us hope," Kreacher agreed, shoving his elbow into Harry's spine, which cracked and popped some more. Anyone walking in might have thought that Kreacher was trying to murder him, the way he held Harry.

"Oh, God, that's good," Harry groaned again.

"Kreacher gets lots of practice," Kreacher agreed, "You gets clean, this is all Kreacher can do," the old Elf yawned. He got up and left, but later returned with a thick, terrycloth robe. It was red and gold. Harry was nodding in the tub, but managed to rouse himself and let Kreacher wrap him in the robe. _Wouldn't that be a headline?_ Harry wondered, _Hero survives battle, drowns in bathtub!_

"Where'd you get this?" Harry asked.

"From Neville's things, the boy with the sword. He will not mind, Kreacher transfiggers it to fits Harry Potter," Kreacher explained. "Now you sleeps," Kreacher urged him towards the bed.

"You should get some rest too," Harry yawned again, slipping out of his robe and into the bed, finding himself suddenly warm and dry and somehow wearing pyjama trousers. "Pick a bed." The last thing he saw before drifting off was Kreacher's smiling face.

A few hours later, when the door opened, Kreacher roused himself from Ron's bed. He knew that _she_ was no threat, even though she held her wand and carried herself in a defensive posture. Kreacher offered his hand, beckoning to her to come in. For a moment, she looked unsure. Then she moved across the room silently, almost drifting, as if rising up above the floor. At some time between the end of the end of the world as she'd known it, and now, she'd cleaned up. Kreacher smelled lavender and roses, and as she took his hand, he sensed that she had not slept either.

He also felt the sadness.

As he took her hand, her robe transfigured into a nightgown. She gasped, but said nothing as Kreacher led her to the bed. For a moment, she stared down at him. A mop of black hair in need of a trim hid half of his stubbled face, but the eye that she could see was closed yet moving.

Harry Potter was dreaming.

Kreacher gently pulled back the blankets. She gasped, shaking her head.

"He will need you, Miss Wheezey...Weez-lee, I mean," Kreacher whispered. "Go to him, Miss."

And Ginevra Weasley joined Harry Potter in his bed.

"Thank you, Kreacher," She whispered back, as the old Elf secured the bed curtains and cast a Privacy Charm so that no one would know.

No one but him.

Harry's arm moved, pulling her into a protective embrace, although he did not wake up. Ginny smiled, laying her head on his shoulder. She noticed that Harry was smiling, ever so slightly.

Kreacher closed the bed curtains and Charmed them for privacy.

It was later when the others arrived, quietly taking their beds. For the first time that year, all the beds in the boys' dormitory were filled.

"Sleep well," Kreacher wished them, retiring to the kitchen, as his need for only a few hours of sleep had been fulfilled. "Do not disturb Master Harry," he said in parting, and Ron, Dean, Neville, and Seamus nodded.

"Do you smell roses?" Ron wondered, but he was fast asleep before anyone could answer him.

Roses.

Through the mists, he could smell roses. Harry wondered if he might have died again, as all he could see were the mists. It wasn't unlike when Voldemort had killed him, or rather, killed the Horcrux inside of him. This time, there was no bench. There was no train station. And although he half expected to see him, there was no Dumbledore.

More importantly, there was no flayed, raw, childlike monstrosity squirming and moaning under said bench.

"What is this place?" Harry wondered, unable to see even his own hands and feet. Was he under his cloak, then? No, because he didn't feel it. He realized that he was neither hot nor cold, and that his sense of motion was odd. He thought he was moving, but the sensation wasn't right either.

"Just because it's taking place in your head, Harry, doesn't mean it's not real!" Dumbledore had said, or something like that. Harry smiled, or rather, felt as if he did, and just decided to go with it.

He was drifting, almost flying, without benefit of a broomstick. It was the best he could describe it, really, as he had no prior frame of reference.

"You are the last," a strange voice suddenly announced, and Harry flinched.

"Sorry?" He attempted, finding that he didn't really have a mouth to use.

"You are the Inheritor," the voice said, "Greetings."

"Who are you?" Harry asked, feeling strangely safe and secure. He found that he didn't like that.

"I have many names, but that is not important," the voice explained, "You are the last, and the latest to inherit my gifts. You are the one whom I cannot affect. What you do with them will shape the destiny of this world."

"I'm sorry, I don't get you," Harry apologized.

"You are tired, Harry Potter, and you need to rest. I understand," the voice said from everywhere, yet nowhere, all at once. "But choose wisely, Master. What is to be _will _be, unless _you_ change it. It is our choices, Harry Potter, that define us. Perhaps we shall meet, someday?"

And with that, the mists all spun away. Harry thought he smelled roses, and although he called out for the owner of that odd voice again, it did not answer him. He reasoned that he must be dreaming, so he concentrated on waking himself up. With so many years of nightmares, he was highly skilled at this.

He awoke with a start, and realized at once that something was wrong. Someone was in his bed! He flinched, blinked, but didn't need his glasses to be able to see an object so close to his face.

That object had a gingery color to it, and it smelled of roses and other nice things.

"Ginny!" Harry nearly choked, suddenly terrified at the thought of Ron, the others, or _anyone for that matter,_ finding him in his dormitory bed with Ginny Weasley in it with him! Harry thanked all the Deities he could think of that his curtains were shut!

_How did Ginny get in my bed? Well, how the hell do you THINK, you idiot?_ He argued mentally with himself._ Now what do I do? What do you THINK you should do?_

She was snuggled up against him, her head on his shoulder. Harry could see the half healed bruises, little wounds, a scab here and there. He suddenly felt an emotion rising in himself, and it was one that he had felt before. However, it was one that he had always blamed on having been connected to Voldemort.

Harry Potter was feeling a lust for revenge.

_Someone is going to pay for this,_ he thought, noting the little defects in an otherwise flawless beauty. He thought of the others: Dean, Neville, Seamus, Luna, Ernie, and any of the others that he'd left behind. He thought of Ron and Hermione: Ron's Splinch-damaged arm, Hermione's arm scared with the word MUDBLOOD.

"Someone is going to pay for this," Harry said aloud, and he could have sworn he felt a small tremor. He looked at the curtains, but they weren't moving. If there had been a tremor, something should have moved, or at least shown signs of it. But nothing did.

But Harry swore that he'd felt movement, as if with a small earthquake.

The room was suddenly cold, but then it passed.

"Wh-what? Pay...how much?" Ginny mumbled, slowly coming awake. She yawned and stretched, seeming certain of herself and knowing exactly where she was. "Oh, Harry!" She then said, becoming coherent at last.

"Did you feel that?" Harry asked, surprising them both by not asking something like, "Ginny, why are you in my bed in that sexy, negligible nightgown?" Harry suddenly realized why they called them 'negligees'.

"I'm feeling a few things," Ginny smiled at him, moving to kiss him. She brushed the hair back from his face, her lips finding his.

"No, no, didn't the bed just shake?" Harry asked, a few minutes later.

"I don't know, but I think we could arrange it?" Ginny smiled at him.

Harry felt himself going hot, and imagined that he looked a great deal like Ron, color-wise. He wondered if she were joking or not. Something told him that she wasn't.

_She's in your bed, you idiot! _He argued with himself, his hands seeming to move of their own volition._ There's a nearly naked girl in your bed, and you're worried about an earthquake?_

He felt warm skin, and when he opened his eyes, he saw hers. For once, he appreciated his awful eyesight; Ginny's face was sharp, but behind her was a blur of the curtains. It was like staring at the perfectly printed portrait, carefully colored to render life just as it should be. He felt her hands on him, and Harry wondered what she saw. He'd never spent too much time looking in mirrors, save for one.

He wondered what _that_ mirror would show now, were it at the foot of his bed? Would it show him only a regular reflection? Would it show him more?

_What else could it show me, at this moment? _He wondered, thinking himself a fool.

"I had the strangest dream," Harry managed, when their lips parted for just a moment.

"Tell me all about it," Ginny gasped, between long and passionate kisses.

"We'll have to stop," Harry pointed out, her hands moving down his sides, feeling at his ribs, to his abs, as he gently and tentatively touched her breasts.

"Bad idea," Ginny disagreed, "Maybe later?" Harry pulled his hand back. "Not _that_ idea, you silly man!" She moved his hand back.

But 'later' came _much_ later. In fact, when it did, Harry forgot all about his dream. The only choice he had at that moment, right after waking from it, was fairly obvious.

And he made it.

_They_ both made it.

As nature took Her course with the two inexperienced young lovers, their flesh becoming one in the act of making love, neither stopped to ponder silly things like dreams. Or things like whether there was a soundproofing charm on the bed curtains. Or if there weren't, would they be interrupted? Or any number of other things...

For them, there was no aftermath of a war. There was no damaged castle. There were no dead friends several floors below. There was no problem of what to do about the surviving Death Eaters, or the traumatized children left behind. There was only that moment.

The entire world, for Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley, ended where the bed curtains began. It was as if they were of one mind, one flesh. He moved within her, and she moved around him. It seemed natural, perfect, as each of them lost track of the line where one ended and the other began. They were one, and that was the beginning, and the end, of the world.

But even that little world eventually came to an end, although it seemed to last forever. When they came back to themselves, they realized that, yes, there was still a world beyond their curtains to face.

"What _have _we done?" Harry breathed.

"What we _had _to do, I think?" Ginny replied sweetly, "What we've wanted to do for so long?" She paused. "Do you see that?" She gasped, as tiny little sparkles of multicolored light sparkled all about them. Harry nodded.

"I've heard of this. Mum mentioned it once, when we...we had _the talk_," Ginny offered. "She said only Magical folk can see it; it doesn't happen with Muggles."

"What is it?" Harry wondered, finding it almost as beautiful as she.

"Mum called it 'The Bonding'," Ginny said softly, her voice filled with wonder. "She said she saw it, the first time she and Dad...well, you know?"

Harry realized that he really didn't want to think about _that_.

"Regrets?" Harry asked sincerely, looking again at her lovely face.

"No," Ginny replied honestly. "You?"

"Your brothers, not to mention your mum and dad, will murder me," Harry fretted, and he wasn't joking.

"Oh, they _love_ you," Ginny reminded him.

"I know, but...but I can't just walk up to your dad and say, 'Mr. Weasley, I've just shagged your daughter!'" Harry replied, "Or something like, 'Mrs. Weasley, we did it, and we got this color-cloud of magic dust!'"

"Then how about something like, 'Mr. Weasley, I'd like to run away with your daughter?'" Ginny supplied.

"Do we _want _to run away?" Harry almost laughed.

Ginny looked serious. "I suppose we can't," she conceded. "There's a _hell_ of mess out there to clean up."

"We could run away _after _we clean it up," Harry suggested playfully, drawing her near again.

"We could make _Ron_ clean it up," Ginny grinned.

"Ginny, love, did it occur to you that we've just shagged, for the very first time, not six feet away from your_ brother_, my best mate?" Harry asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"That _does_ sort of ruin it, doesn't it?" Ginny laughed a little. They both had to laugh at the thought of it.

Harry then turned a bit pale. "Ginny, what if I've...I've gotten you...?" He fumbled.

"Contraceptive Charm," Ginny interrupted him, to save him from saying it. "Madame Pomfrey's been passing them out to all the girls. I...I mean, there was talk of...you weren't _here_, Harry," she seemed to be evading it, looking at his shocked face, "This last year wasn't exactly a party. You've heard about the lessons, the punishments, the torture. But there's more. There's been talk of rape, and a few girls left and didn't come back this year."

Harry's face went hard, and he clenched his jaw so hard that he swore a tooth cracked.

"Harry, I'm sorry!" Ginny added quickly, pulling back just a little, "_I _wasn't one of them, if that's what you're wondering!"

"I can't imagine anyone even _trying_," Harry said seriously, "Not with some of the Hexes I've seen you do! Pity none of them _tried_," he snarled, "I'd pay good money to see your retribution, love!"

"Say that again," she whispered.

"Retribution?" Harry said.

"No, silly, the last word."

"Love?"

"Love," Ginny nodded, kissing him again

"I like retribution, too, though," Harry added.

"So do I," Ginny agreed. "You think we should get up? I wonder what time it is?"

"Time for dinner," Kreacher piped up, peering in through the curtains. They both squeaked in alarm. "Kreacher was wondering if you's wuz ever getting up today?"

They both stretched, but were reluctant to open the curtains. "About eight hours, then?" Harry wondered.

"No, that was yesterday," Kreacher informed them. "You all needed the rest." He looked puzzled. "Oh, them boys is already in the bath," Kreacher added, "We is fixing the pipes first. Don'ts worries, friends, they never knows you's here!"

They'd slept through an entire day!

"Good idea," Harry smiled. "_Well _done, Kreacher!"

"I think I'll go freshen up, you know, get out of here while the getting is good?" Ginny offered.

"The getting was _quite_ good," Harry was surprised to hear himself say.

"You're cute when you blush," Ginny smiled at him, "Ron's just funny looking!"

And with that, she closed the door.

"You say you've fixed the pipes?" Harry repeated, and Kreacher nodded. "I could use another bath."

Kreacher sniffed. "Yes, you coulds."

Harry still wore a satisfied grin on his face as he entered the showers. Despite his worries, he suddenly found that facing Ron didn't seem to bother him at all. In fact, he couldn't have possibly cared less what his friend thought. That grin fell away, though, when he saw his friends fully naked in the showers.

_There's no dividers?  
We all shower at once?  
So?  
Am I the only one with brothers?  
Yes!_

Harry had to grin. They'd all been shy that first day. It seemed like another lifetime, when they'd all been...undamaged? Was that the word he wanted?

The scars on Ron's left side from being Splinched during their hasty getaway from Grimmauld Place reminded Harry of dents in a car's fender. They were a healed, but were angry shades of pink. He tried to overlook the minor cuts and abrasions on them all, but he couldn't.

Seamus' face was still swollen, his eye still back and his lip split. As he turned, the marks on his back made Harry think that he'd been horsewhipped.

Neville wasn't much better off, as he was trying to wash his hair and had gotten his head to bleeding again. His ankle was also swollen, a very angry shade of purple and ugly yellow.

It was hard to tell with Dean's dark skin, but it looked like he'd fared not much better than his friends. There was an ugly cut around his side.

_Someone is going to pay for this,_ Harry repeated to himself.

"Why haven't you lot had those healed yet?" Harry demanded, dropping his clothes on the floor.

"Scopin' us out, mate?" Seamus laughed at him.

"In fact, I am," Harry replied dryly. "KREACHER!"

There was a POP! Kreacher appeared.

"My goodnesses, you all's looks bad," Kreacher told them.

"Bit brash, isn't he?" Ron gasped, seeming a bit embarrassed to be seen in the showers by the Elf. Kreacher seemed nonplussed.

"Boys, you's is looking awful!" Kreacher pointed out.

"Ya think?!" Dean exclaimed.

"Kreacher, if you're feeling up to it, could you help my friends, please?" Harry asked him.

"We Elfses is good with Charms for cuts, burns, bruises, yes, we is," Kreacher agreed happily, almost sadistically, wringing his hands, Harry thought, as he moved towards Seamus first.

"Does he know what he's doin'?" Seamus fretted.

"Trust me," Harry assured him, turning to show them his own mostly-healed body.

"Looks like he did good work," Dean agreed.

Kreacher began probing a very nervous Seamus, mumbling and shaking his head.

"Madame Pomfrey's too busy, even with the help called in from St. Mungo's, and even with Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons sending help when Fleur called, they can't keep up," Neville informed him, as Kreacher grabbed Seamus and hoisted him up, making his spine pop. Seamus yelled as Kreacher then set into work on his face. "We had to triage, and we decided to wait," Neville went on. "There's a lot of kids worse off than we are, to say nothing of the adults."

"Noble," Harry snorted, lathering up, "Kreacher, if your friends in the kitchen can find the time, I don't care if they cancel dessert. Get anyone who can perform Healing Arts up here and start to work on the students, please," Harry told him.

"This ribby-bone were set wrong," Kreacher observed of Seamus, "When it were broke the first time." Kreacher snapped his finger and poked the boy. Seamus screamed again, doubling over.

"Don' ya know any bloody _pain-killin' _Charms, yeh daft Brownie?" Seamus insulted him. "Jus' what kinda'r Elf ya got here, Harry?"

"A talented, freelance worker," Harry replied, as Kreacher pressed his palm to Seamus' eye.

"He's murderin' me!" Seamus wailed.

"If it don't hurt, it don't work," Kreacher reminded him. Harry raised an eyebrow at the Elf's tender mercies.

But when he was done, Seamus looked good as new. The Irish boy stared into the steamed up mirror, wiped it, and gasped. For a moment, Harry was reminded of a sandy-haired, crew-cut little boy he'd met on the boats – eyes bright and full of wonder, ever smiling, and amazed at everything.

He doubted he'd ever see that boy again.

"Neville, you're the next victim," Harry said flatly.

"Oh, God," Neville sighed, as Kreacher grasped his ankle.

"You might wants to sits down," Kreacher warned him. "This will hurts – a LOT!"

"I just _knew_ it," Neville winced, as Kreacher went to work.

Several screams later, and he was done.

"You enjoyed that," Ron accused him.

Kreacher nodded.

"It's worth it," Neville groaned in relief. "Damn, he even fixed my face!"

"I'm good, really," Dean waved him off, but Kreacher chased him down.

Ron went last, but in the end, he too had to admit that it was worth it. "Thank you," he said, offering his hand to a shocked Kreacher, who'd been able to restore most of his Splinched arm.

"We wouldn't have lasted as long as we did, if it wasn't for the House Elves," Neville explained, as they dressed for dinner. He tossed Harry a spare set of clothes, and Kreacher set in to Protean Charming them to size. "They were always sneaking into the Room of Requirement, or smuggling kids down to the kitchens for stuff that we couldn't heal."

Then Harry thought of something.

"Neville, how was it that the Creevey boys were able to be here, being Muggleborns?" Harry had to ask, trying hard to not think too much about Colin. Neville, it seemed, felt the same way. He didn't reply at once.

"There wuz some questions o'er their legal status, tied up in court, a real mess o' paperwork," Seamus explained. "Summat about their great-great-grandfather Reeves being an old-world wizard what renounced his powers to live with the Muggles? Kinda strange, if'n yeh asks me."

"_Paper_work?" Harry wondered. "Who held up their paperwork?"

"Professor Snape," Neville said softly, and Harry suddenly realized something: the torn picture he'd found at Grimmauld Place, of him riding his toy broomstick in front of his mother: Snape had taken the half bearing Lily's image. The picture of the original Order of the Phoenix: Lily was in it. He'd also had Colin make a backup copy of his photo album that Hagrid had give him.

Pictures.

Colin Creevey's whole world had been about pictures.

Pictures of Lily.

And those pictures had protected him. Lily had protected him, and Dennis, as well.

Harry swallowed a lump that had suddenly risen in his throat.

_No, I will **not** cry! Not here, not now!_

"Creevey spent an awful lotta time with ol' Snape," Seamus went on. "Said they were makin' photo potions fer developin' film. We used ter joke that Snape _liked _little boys," he paused. "Problem was, some of them Death Eaters _**did**_. When we found that out, it weren't funny no more."

Harry gasped. First Ginny mentioning rape, missing girls, and now _this_?

"Wouldn't put it past him, but Colin always said Snape was good to him. He was one of the few kids here who still knew how to smile," Neville added. "It was like Snape was up to something?" He mused, "Like Colin were talking about someone else? You know, I don't think _he_ ever hit anyone?"

"Neville, there's things you don't know about Severus Snape," Harry pointed out. "Things I didn't know, but Dumbledore did. In the end, I...I found out some things. I don't think he would ever have struck a child, given how badly _he_ was treated as a boy."

"He was a spy, wasn't he?" Dean suggested.

"It was _planned_, weren't it?" Seamus gasped, "Ol' Dumbledore planned fer him to kill him?!"

Harry nodded. "An inside man, and the Order's man, _Dumbledore's _man, until the end," Harry nodded sadly, as they looked around the Common Room. "God, I've missed this place. I wonder if I can stay here a bit?"

"That explains a lot. We gotta live somewhere, while we rebuild," Neville shrugged. "Might as well be here?"

"Snape was protecting the Creevey brothers?" Ron finally seemed to wrap his head around the idea.

"Colin worked his tail off," Seamus reminded them, "Them Carrow bastards always had him photographin' summat fer 'em. Mostly _them_," he snorted in disgust, "Wonder they didn't break his camera, they wuz so damn ugly." He thought about it for a minute. "Someone should go check on Dennis. Make sure he comes to dinner. Aberforth told me he hasn't eaten in days." Neville looked hard at Seamus.

Harry saw that look, and he realized its meaning at once.

"Oh, God _**no**_!" Harry gasped.

Neville and Seamus nodded at him. Ron looked ill. Dean cringed. "I got nothin' against bein' gay, but what they did was just _sick_!"

"That one so-called _Auror,_" Neville spat the word, "Jugson, I think? He _liked _Dennis; he liked him a _lot_."

"How much is a 'lot'?" Harry snarled, his hands shaking.

"He sodomized him, Harry," Neville mumbled.

"I think seein' _you_ might help bring him out of it," Seamus offered. "By the time we found out and got him hid in tha RoR, it were too late. Tha damage were done. Madame Pomfrey healed his body, but he's bad off in tha head, I think?"

"Anyone _would_ be," Dean agreed.

Harry looked at Neville again. The two Gryffindors nodded to one another, wordlessly agreeing.

_Then Neville nearly walked into him. He was one half of a pair that was carrying a body in from the grounds. Harry glanced down and felt another dull blow to his stomach: Colin Creevey, though underage, must have sneaked back just as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had done. He was tiny in death._ [pp. 694, DH]

"You lot go on, we'll be along," Harry said, and the boys flinched at his tone of voice.

Harry went to the door marked **Gryffindor Boys' Dormitory – Fourth Years,** passing a few others on the way. He recognized one Nigel Wolpert, who had sorted last with Dennis. The boys gaped at him.

"Why haven't you lot been sent home?" Harry had to ask.

"P-Professor M-M-McGonagall ordered us to stay here," Nigel just managed, clearly awed. "Our p-parents haven't c-come yet, sir!"

"Don't call me that," Harry winced, "Is Dennis in there?" They all nodded. "Have the Elves been here to examine you?" They all nodded again. "Good as new?" _Merlin's socks, it's like pulling teeth! _Harry thought, realizing that the boys weren't awed – they were afraid, standing at attention like soldiers.

"Yes, sir," Nigel, the bravest one, it seemed, answered. "But he won't come out. He just stays in his bed and cries, sir."

"_You know what? I can manage him alone, Neville," said Oliver Wood, and he heaved Colin over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and carried him into the Great Hall._ [pp. 694]

"Thank you, boys. Now, off to dinner," Harry added, "We've repaired the main stairs, and no banister sliding!" He smiled.

"Yes, sir," the boys all nodded seriously, and off they went.

Harry sighed. There was a lot of work to do here, and it wasn't all about the Castle, either.

Behind that door, afraid to leave his bed, was a little boy who had been beaten, terrorized beyond belief, molested, threatened with death (Harry surmised), had no idea where his parents were, _and_ who had just lost his beloved brother. He steeled himself, wondering if he should go in or not.

"Choose wisely," he remembered that disembodied dream-voice telling him.

Harry knocked.

"GO AWAY!" a boy's voice shouted back, and Harry felt that familiar sensation of being punched in the gut again._ I will not cry in front of this child,_ he told himself.

"Dennis? It's me, Harry," Harry coaxed him, "Can I come in?"

He didn't have to, though. The door flew open, and Harry had just enough time to bend down to catch the sobbing child in his arms. Guilt and grief welled up inside of him as Dennis held him, hiding his face in Harry's shoulder as he wailed, clinging to him as a drowning man might to a life preserver.

_He had to stand up on the bench to see the Staff table,_ Harry recalled, marveling at how tiny Dennis still was for a Fourth Year. One might have mistaken him for a nine-or-ten-year-old, and a puny one at that. Dennis Creevey seemed to weigh almost nothing as Harry carried him back to his bed. He sat, letting the boy cry it out.

"Dennis, you need to come and eat some dinner," Harry said softly, placing his hands on the boy's cheeks and gently wiping his face. He blinked at the boy's screaming yellow pyjamas, convinced that they must have been powered by magic. Or Muggle batteries. "Will you come down with me?"

"N-no," Dennis sniffled, looking away, but still refusing to let go of Harry. Harry's eyes followed the angle, and there on the bureau was a framed 8x10" print of the Creevey brothers. In it, Colin had his arm around the smaller boy's shoulder, pulling him close, as they both smiled and waved at the camera. "Th-they w-won't let m-me s-s-see him," Dennis choked on the words, and Harry Potter lost his resolve. He felt a hot tear spill down his cheek. _I was unkind to him,_ he reminded himself.

"Dennis," Harry's voice broke, and the small boy flinched. He stared back at Harry in awe. "I...I'm _so_ sorry," he offered lamely, not knowing what else to say. But slowly, painfully slowly, the words began to come. "I'm sorry that I had to abandon you lot here, but please, trust me! I was acting on Dumbledore's orders, Dennis. He set me a task, one that would insure that the Dark Lord could be killed, and never return again. I _had_ to do it, Dennis. Please believe me when I say that I never wanted, never intended, to abandon you! If I could go back and undo it," Harry madly recalled Hermione's Time-Turner... "And you've seen the ghosts, Dennis. Death _isn't_ the end of our existence! You know that. Dumbledore once told me that it was just the next great adventure. Somewhere, out there, I'm sure that Colin is...is watching."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive, Dennis," Harry assured him, "When I went into the Forest to face Voldemort, he tried to kill me again. For a moment, I was dead. I _was_ in the Afterlife." He paused, seeing the fascination in that trusting little face. "It's so beautiful that I didn't want to come back. But I knew I _had_ to."

"Th-they told us y-you'd hid, b-because you w-were a c-coward," Dennis sniffled, "But we n-never believed it! None of us! Colin said...he said you'd come for us, and you _did_!"

The look of pure innocent trust and adoration on the small boy's face nearly made Harry sick. How anyone could have looked into that face, and then chosen to harm him, was beyond Harry. This could well have been the face of any child there. It could have been the face of Teddy Lupin, Harry realized, sometime in the future.

_No, this will not happen again!_ Harry promised himself, promised Dennis...promised them all. Somewhere deep inside, Harry felt something snap.

Then Dennis reached up, his index finger bandaged, and wiped the tear from Harry's face.

"If anyone ever tells you that a man doesn't cry, Dennis, don't you believe it," Harry told him, desperately trying to be the image of strength that Dennis obviously thought he was. He smoothed the boy's hair, unsure of how he would take it – unsure of how Dennis might now react to being touched by a man.

But Dennis just smiled back him.

"Were the Elves here?" Harry asked, taking his hand to examine his finger.

Dennis nodded. "That one batty old Elf, Kreacher, said he was acting on your orders, sir...I mean, Harry?" And for just a second, the Dennis that Harry knew shone through. Then he was gone. "Him and Winky checked us all over. I...I didn't w-want him to t-t-touch me," Dennis began to stutter again. "Th-they d-did things t-t-to m-me..."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Harry cut him off, not wanting to force him to tell the gruesome story. "You don't have to talk about it, Dennis. But you can sleep easy now, knowing it will never happen to you again. I promise."

"H-Harry, what if...they don't find my p-parents?" Dennis whimpered. "Who'll take care of me?"

"_**I **_will," Harry told him firmly.

Dennis hugged him again. "You _mean_ it?!"

Harry nodded.

_You're a dead man, Jugson, _Harry thought.

Amazingly, only a few minutes had passed. There was still time for dinner. Harry made his offer again, and this time, Dennis accepted. He quickly washed up, dressed, and Harry pulled out his wand to Charm his rumpled uniform.

But his hand closed around the Elder Wand.

"Is _that_ it?!" Dennis squeaked in shock, "Is that the _Elder_ Wand?"

"Yes," Harry said in shock, "But I don't recall...? The last thing I want to do is point _this _canon at a kid," Harry snorted, pulling out his holly wand and fixing the boy's uniform and hair. "A precarious experience for me, as you can see," Harry joked, pointing at his own perpetually messy hair.

And Dennis Creevey laughed. "You need'a shave!"

"C'mon, you have to come and eat, or you'll be sick," Harry told him firmly, taking his hand. Dennis' grip was firm, and it was clear that he didn't want to let go._ Good Lord, I'm channeling Mrs. Weasley!_ Harry fretted.

"Harry?" Dennis asked, on their way down the final staircase, as they carefully picked their way around some larger rubble, "Wha's gonna happen to them what...what d-did that to..." He paused, staring at the doors to the somewhat-repaired Great Hall. One door was still off a hinge, though, and hung askew. Dennis stopped. "I...I can't g-go in th-there!" He suddenly declared, but Harry still had his hand. He saw the look of shame on the boy's face. How many of the others knew?

"_Are_ you a brave Gryffindor, or NOT?!" Harry asked him, his tone harder. "If you retreat to that room and hide, Dennis Creevey, then you've let THEM win! Don't hand it over, Dennis! Show them the stuff'o'what we're _made_ of!"_ God, now I'm channeling Oliver Wood! _Harry then bent down to look the boy in the eye. "You will _tell_ me, Dennis! After we eat, you and I will talk some more. You'll identify who hurt you, and _I_ – **will** – _**make**_ – them – **PAY**!" Harry snarled, his green eyes going wide.

Dennis stepped back at the manic look that flashed across his face.

But he took his hand again, and Dennis took a step forward.

_All journeys begin with a single step,_ Harry thought, wondering where he'd heard that. Probably Hermione, he guessed, as, still holding that small hand in his, they entered the Hall, only a bit late for dinner.

_Yes, Dennis, someone is going to pay!_

"Harry, will you sit next to me?" Dennis asked in a very small voice, as slowly, the sounds of applause began.

Neville Longbottom looked up from his plate, and then he stood, beckoning to them.

A/N: wiki/Dennis_Creevey  
Nigel from the films is considered a canon character after all. God, the horror!

Gryffindor Tower is habitable, according to the DH-book.

WARNING: If you decide to stay with this story, be warned, it's only going to get darker.


	2. Chapter 2-The Days After

**Dark Mirror X**

**2**

**The Days After**

"_**For any event, there is an infinite number of possible outcomes. Our choices determine which outcomes will follow. But there is a theory in quantum physics, that all possibilities that **_**can****_ happen, _do_ happen...in alternate quantum realities." - _**Mr. Data, Star Trek TNG, 'Parallels'.©Paramount/CBS

"_**...exactly...which makes you **_**different****_ from Voldemort! It is not our abilities that show what we truly are. It is our choices!"_** - Albus Dumbledore, COS, ©JK Rowling/Warner Bros. (movie quote).

**A/N**: This chapter follows closely with the novel "Harry Potter & the New Marauders" chapter one, in which Hogwarts is repaired. However, those choices that Harry is constantly reminded of are made just a bit differently here, and the Dark Mirror Potterverse begins to take shape.

Voldemort was no more.

Gone as well was the threat of living a life of fear, living a life in servitude under a Dark Lord, and everything that went with it.

But also missing were fifty people who had given their lives for the cause. Not to mention several windows, doors, floor tiles, staircases, and woodwork. From the front gates, the sight of Hogwarts Castle made one think of a small child who had gotten into a scrap with the schoolyard bully and come out of it with _more_ than just a black eye and a bloody nose. Fortunately, however, several locals from Hogsmeade village had rounded up some witches and wizards skilled in magical construction. Their inspection that next day after the battle, as exhausted as they all were, had determined that the superstructure of the castle was indeed intact, and that aside from a few broken staircases and cracked walls, Hogwarts was in no danger of collapsing.

"Even with magic, though, it's gonna take all bloody summer to fix her back up," one of the inspectors declared.

"Has anyone seen Harry and them today?" Aberforth Dumbledore wondered.

"Last I heard," Rubeus Hagrid answered, "They were holed up in their tower, sleepin' it off." He sniffled. "Poor kids deserve a rest."

"Don't we all?" Argus Filch put in, as they all sat around wondering where to start.

"Where'd you hear that?" Aberforth asked Hagrid.

"From Harry's House Elf, Kreacher. Best watch out fer that one! I guess Harry's offered him tha choice o'servin' him, or doin' as he will!"

Aberforth sighed. "Hasn't anybody taught that boy a bloody thing about the magical world? He's turned that crazy old Elf _loose_?!"

"I think he's learned _enough_," Caretaker Filch disagreed, as they and a few others surveyed the badly damaged lawn leading down the burned out Quidditch Pitch. "Let's get this place cleaned up. The Fat Friar was wonderin' if he might hold the funeral out here tomorrow."

"Argus, give it a rest," Aberforth advised, "Hell, everyone's just laying down where they are when they're tired. I don't think we'll accomplish much today. Hell, old Voldy's not even cold yet!"

"We all need a rest," Hagrid agreed, "Don't know if I trust tha' castle, though?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say the superstructure of the castle is repairing itself," Another man from the village suggested, as he made his way down from the front doors. He was carrying some sort of magical device on a tripod, and a few rolled up scrolls. "I swear I just saw a busted block rejoin and slide itself back into the wall!"

"Looks pretty good ter me," Another dust-covered man agreed, "I've raised a building or three in my day, and I'd say she's pretty sound, still. Mostly cosmetic damage, I'll wager, but there's a _lot_ of it."

And so, thus assured that the roof wasn't going to collapse on them all, those who were able bent all of their efforts to caring for the wounded – and seeing to the dead. Madame Pomfrey's reinforcements from St. Mungo's and Beauxbatons assisted, but they were still overwhelmed. The good news was, eventually, that no one else succumbed to their injuries from what was now being called "The Final Battle."

In an unused classroom, the ghost of the Fat Friar stood guard over the dead.

"Has anyone seen Harry and...Dumbledore's Army?" Madame Pomfrey asked, as a few House Elves arrived with a late lunch for them at the crowded Hospital Wing.

"Sleepin' it off, Miss," Winky informed her.

"We need to see them, too," Madame Pomfrey said, "Now that we're past the worst cases here. I know Longbottom was injured, to say nothing of the lingering messes the Carrows made of some of the students."

"We's already on it," Winky assured her. "We's _been _on it all years."

"I know," Madame Pomfrey smiled at her. "Thank you. You've already patched them up, then?"

Winky nodded. "Kreacher is good with chiro-prakky stuffs," Winky added. Everyone winced. "Kreacher say they need to sleeps," she added, as Professor McGonagall came through the door. "He say we has Gryffy-door's Tower fixed up good!" Winky bowed slightly to her.

McGonagall sighed, surveying the crowded Hospital Wing as she made her way through. The Acting Headmistress looked very tired, but she still carried herself in a regal manner. "Report, please, Poppy?" she asked.

A nurse brought her a report. "Fifty dead, A hundred forty-eight injured, seventy-two others taken to St. Mungo's, thirty-one discharged so far." She shook her head. "At least the Death Eaters planned ahead and kept _them_ up and running, probably for their own benefit, though."

"To the victors go the spoils," McGonagall replied curtly. "So you say Potter and the rest are all right?"

"Yes, Miss," Winky agreed.

McGonagall conjured a quill and parchment, and made notes. "Status of the kitchen?"

"Some bits of ceilings come down, but we fixes it," Winky replied, "The kitchens, and Hufflepuff House is not too damaged. Broken pipes, but they's fine now, Miss."

"Very good, can we plan on dinner this evening in the Hall?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes, miss, but it might be's a bit breezy. We still has a hole in the walls," Winky nodded. McGonagall nodded back, and the House Elf vanished.

"Coming along well then, Minerva?" Madame Pomfrey asked.

"With all the volunteers showing up from the village, I'd say it should be at least serviceable by dinnertime," McGonagall replied. "Even if we do have an unplanned patio now! I think we'll have to do a pitch-in. What do you think?"

"Unless you plan to pull off a miracle of loaves and fishes," The Fat Friar put in, as he drifted up through the floor, "I'd say you'll have to! It looks like a Boy Scout jamboree down there on the lawn, all those tents popping up like mushrooms!"

"Boy _Scouts_?" McGonagall asked. "Are those some kind of Muggle juvenile spies? _**Merlin**_! The Concealment Wards!"

"I'wzzz a Boy Scout," Justin Finch-Fletchley mumbled, sitting up in his bed with a dazed look on his face.

"How'd _he_ get back in here?" McGonagall wondered. "Thought he was one of the Muggleborns in hiding?"

"Ernie MacMillan hid him," Madame Pomfrey explained, "Got him back in somehow, with this -" she held up a gold Galleon, "Found it in his pocket. It's charmed to send messages. All the DA kids have them. I think that's how they held their network together."

"I think our DA learned a lot more than _we_ were teaching them," McGonagall finally smiled.

"Mummy, I don't wanna go-school today," Justin sighed, falling back on his pillow.

"Head wound," Madame Pomfrey explained, checking his bandage.

"Good place to get hit, _hard _as it is," Professor Sprout agreed, as she came in with several large baskets of herbs floating behind her. "This is the last of the dittany and mandrake, and I'd suggest ordering replacement stock from France. They pretty much leveled Greenhouse One."

McGonagall made more notes. "Very good, carry on," she turned to go.

"Minerva?" Madame Pomfrey called after her. McGonagall paused. "You're exhausted. Get some rest. Let the villagers and volunteers deal with it today." She looked around the room again, at what seemed to be a never-ending task. "Have you talked to Horace yet?"

"No," McGonagall replied flatly, as she left.

"We haven't seen a single Slytherin student," Madame Pomfrey told a nurse. "Go and find Slughorn, and see what's going on down there!"

Moments later, McGonagall's amplified voice filled the campus: **"Your attention please! Repair crews to the following locations: Great Hall, main entrance, south and east wings, seventh floor, and Ravenclaw Tower. Cleanup crews to the front lawn. Dinner will be served for students and families in the Hall this evening. Please bring something for a pitch-in, as the House Elves are engaged in other repair activities. Anyone with knowledge of the location of several missing parents and/or students, please report to me in the Headmaster's Office."** She paused. **"Anyone wishing to take their children and go home may also feel free to do so. It's safe to say, class dismissed! **_**This **_**term is over!"**

That afternoon, Grawp the Giant made short work of the busted statues that littered the grounds, getting some help from the other undamaged statues as well. Centaurs patrolled the Forest, flushing out stray Death Eaters and frightened students who'd run off and gotten lost. Once evaluated by the Aurors, the surviving Death Eaters were taken into custody and placed in the dungeons beneath Hogwarts.

McGonagall quickly realized, though, that they were on their own as far as Ministry support went. With Voldemort's takeover of the Ministry, and given the heavy losses they'd taken before and during the Battle, there wasn't much of a Ministry _left_ to provide them with any support.

"It's a real mess here, Minerva," Kingsley Shacklebolt informed her via Floo. "We've lost almost half our staff, and you can't trust the half that's still here. There's not enough of us left in the Order to sort out who's lying and who's not."

"So what do I _do_ with the prisoners we've got in the dungeons?" McGonagall asked, "To say nothing of all the students, especially the Slytherins, who haven't even been claimed by parents yet?"

"Carry on?" Kingsley shrugged, "Keep them housed and fed, and call it an early vacation?"

"You're not helping," McGonagall snapped, as there came a chime at the door. "Come in?" She said, closing the Floo connection. She looked up to see Molly Weasley and Andromeda Tonks entering. McGonagall nearly jumped out of her seat, as the resemblance of Andromeda to her sister, Bellatrix, was frightening. "Sorry, Andy!"

"It's all right, Minerva. I get that a lot lately," Andromeda shrugged. She was also carrying a bundle.

"Is that...?" McGonagall asked.

Andromeda nodded. "This is Teddy Lupin," she said softly, pulling back the edge of the blanket to reveal a sleeping baby boy with turquoise-blue hair.

"Minerva, about the children?" Molly Weasley asked.

"The House Elves tell me they're sleeping it off," McGonagall shrugged. "Wish I could!"

"You can," Andromeda replied, "You've been up fighting all night long! I haven't. My worst battle was the two o'clock feeding and nappie change." She looked around the office. "And if anyone gives me any trouble, I'll just go all-Bella on their arse!"

McGonagall considered her offer. "What about you, Molly?" She asked, finding, surprisingly, that she'd been affected by the death of Fred Weasley as well. She couldn't imagine how her friend must have felt, but Molly's face betrayed her, despite her words. She was a mother who'd lost her child. Oddly enough, McGonagall remembered the day she'd caught the twins Hexing toilet seats to bite.

"There's a whole tower full of children in need of a mum right now," Molly said, "I'll find something to busy myself with, I suppose..." her voice trailed off, "Have to do something..."

"Do _this_," Andromeda handed her the baby. "Minerva, bed – now!"

So it was, not much got done that day. Volunteers from the village saw very few students out and about. And while the kitchens and Hufflepuff House were pretty busy, the corridors leading down to the Slytherin Chambers were as quiet as a tomb.

The following morning was much busier, however. With the exception of Harry and many of the students who'd fought, everyone else was out and about again after a rest. McGonagall and the Staff were shocked at how much debris had been cleared, as the ground floor of the castle was even navigable again! The front courtyard was another matter, however. There was a decent turnout for breakfast, although it was clear that something was wrong:

There was no one at the Slytherin table.

The chair normally occupied by Horace Slughorn at the staff table was also empty as the food appeared on the tables as usual. It was halfway through breakfast that the Potions Master appeared, and he did _not_ look happy.

"_We_ need to talk!" He snapped at McGonagall, pointing at the door, "**Now**!"

"H-Horace?" McGonagall gasped at the look on his face as she followed him into the corridor.

"Would you mind explaining to me _why_ my students are being treated like criminals?" The old man demanded, shocking her with the accusation. "You know, I've taken a _lot_ from you, Minerva," he said calmly, and amazingly slowly, never raising his voice again. "The night Snape deserted us, you threatened to kill me _and_ any student who raised a wand against you.

"You told me to decide where our loyalties lay.

"And I went along with you. When Aberforth Dumbledore suggested that we keep my children as hostages in his bar – yes, I know about that! - I didn't say a word to him, or you! In fact, it had to be Harry Potter who took that one on and refused. And you _wonder_ why not a one of them stayed to fight for you? And still, _I_ remained and fought with you. Right now, I've got terrified children down there!" he pointed dramatically at the floor, "Children who were forced back here like a herd of livestock! Children who need medical care, who're scared out of their wits, and most whom don't have a _clue_ where their families are! It's been a full day, and no one's come to check up on them!"

"Horace, I...I...?" McGonagall stammered, "I never dreamed they'd be treated like..."

"Tell that to the Aurors, and those deputized _morons_," Slughorn went on coolly. "We have guards at the door, Minerva! No one in or out, but for me! No one from the Hospital's been down, either, despite my repeated appeals to Poppy! Not so much as one bloody nurse! I've got sprained ankles, bumped heads, contusions and such from the evacuation! I've even got a boy with a broken nose from a fist fight with one of your little Gryffindor monsters! And do you think anyone's even come to FEED my children?! Not one bloody ELF has come down!" His voice finally began to rise as he reached into his pocket for a parchment. "This is a list of known casualties," He went on, his eyes beginning to fill as he struggled for control. "I knew _all_ of them, taught _most_ of them. Many of them were old Slug Club members. Charles and Christine Avery, top of the list," his voice fell to a whisper. "Do those names mean _anything_ to you, Minerva?"

She shook her head. "Other than that they were in league with Vol-..."

"CAMERON **Avery** is a Firstie," Slughorn explained. "He's an O-level Transfigurations student. Don't you even _know _your own best students, Minerva?" He dug in, "He was the little dark-haired boy at the front of the line, the shortest one, in fact, the night we gathered in the Hall to evacuate? The night you threatened us with murder? Remember?!" He then began to weep, silently, his tears falling on the damning list he held in his hands. "Minerva, how in Merlin's name do I tell that innocent little child – and YES, he's INNOCENT! - that both...BOTH...of his parents _died_ last night? _HOW,_ MINERVA?"

There was an awkward pause.

Slughorn wept.

"You didn't _see_ it, did you?" Slughorn went on, wiping his face on his sleeve. "My students didn't have it nearly as bad as the others this past term, _no_! But they still got punished too! The Carrows and Snape expected _more _from them, you know! They're Slytherins, right? Purebloods? They're the ones who were to set the example? Well let me tell _you_, Miss, that _didn't _make them immune to detentions and punishments just as horrific as _yours_ got! Remember Longbottom being beaten for refusing to perform the Cruciatus Curse on Firsties as a class assignment? The day before the battle, in fact? For the love of _God,_ woman, they were using little Avery and Rossier as victims because the boys were late to a DADA class_ one _time! And _Neville _refused, Minerva! He REFUSED to torture them, at his own expense, because HE – a STUDENT – knew they were innocent!"

"H-Horace, I..." she tried to interrupted, but Slughorn wasn't done.

"Parkinson, I can understand, the **bitch**! But the _rest _of them? These children are the products of their upbringing, Minerva! The younger ones might have been little monsters, yes – I don't deny that. But it's _not _their fault! They need help, and _what _do they get? The older students in the dungeons, under heavy guard, and the younger ones locked in their rooms without food or care? Who the _hell_ do these Aurors think they _are_?!"

McGonagall, despite her shock, had finally had enough. "Horace, this is the _first_ I've heard of it! In case you hadn't noticed, everyone is exhausted, and we've been busy with trying to keep the castle from falling down on our heads! And _why_ didn't you come to me sooner about this?"

"I TRIED!" Slughorn shouted back at her, waving his list like a banner. "_They_ wouldn't let _me_ see you! I was threatened!"

"I left Andromeda in charge yesterday!"

"Your Auror goons wouldn't _let_ me into the bloody office!" Slughorn countered. "My God, Vincent Crabbe's dead, too."

"We lost students in all four Houses," McGonagall reminded him. "Lavender Brown, Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey," she fumbled, "Professor Winston from Arithmancy, and several on the Seventh Floor..."

"But you can only name the Gryffindors, can't you?"

She paused. Slowly, she nodded.

"This is wrong, and you _know_ it," Slughorn finished. "You'll excuse me, I have to go and tell a little boy that _his _whole world is gone. But before I do, could you trouble the House Elves to send some breakfast down? Cold cereal and milk would do."

And with that, he turned and left.

McGonagall saw that his shoulders were shaking badly.

She turned to head back into the Great Hall, nearly stumbling over a small pile of rubble, when she realized something: She knew it was wrong, how these children were being treated. Add to that, she'd not been informed by the Aurors or deputies. Yet a part of her didn't seem to care. _Perhaps they got what they deserved,_ she thought, startling herself in the process._ And how many of them did what Longbottom did, all this past term? How many of THEM stood up for a Hufflepuff or anyone else being mistreated? _She wondered. She remembered Pansy Parkinson pointing out Harry and saying, "Somebody grab him!" She remembered seeing Finnigan and Longbottom after DADA lessons with Crabbe and Goyle. She remembered battered Firsties in Hospital.

The risk was too great.

There was work to be done.

With a flick of her wand, she sent her Patronus to tell the Elves to serve breakfast to those in the dungeons.

And Headmistress Minerva McGonagall went about her work.

Harry and his friends reappeared at dinner that night. In fact, the Great Hall was filled to capacity with children, parents, and volunteers from the village. The last to arrive was Harry, though, entering the Hall with young Dennis Creevey in tow. On his way to the Gryffindor table, he paused, though.

"Neville, have _all _the Slytherins gone home?" Harry asked, pointing to the empty table.

"Don't know?" Neville replied around a mouthful of food.

"Funny, I didn't miss 'em," Seamus snorted.

Hermione looked up from her book about architecture, glared at Ron (heartily devouring chicken wings), and confronted Seamus. "Not _all_ of them are guilty of something, you know," she reminded him.

Seamus, fully possessed of his mother's Irish temper, glared at her. "**Yeah**? Well how many of THEM, other than ol' Slughorn, stayed ter fight?" He retorted hotly, "How many o'_them _ever stood up for one o'us, when we were gettin' tha shit kicked outta us this year? You think I'm weepin' o'er Crabbe burnin' up in his own Fiend Fyre? NO! Fat Fuck got what he had comin'!"

"Young man," Mrs. Weasley spoke up, sitting across and down a bit, "Please watch your language." She looked over at the empty table. "I feel for his mother," was all she said.

"But where are they?" Harry repeated. "Not _still _at Aberforth's bar?!"

"Confined to quarters, under guard," George Weasley put in. It was the first thing anyone had heard him say since Fred's death, and he sat close to Angelina Johnson, flanked by Bill and Charlie. "Tha's where Dad and Percy are, helping guard."

"I hear they've confiscated their wands," Dean spoke up.

"Even the Firsties, Seconds, and such?" Harry wondered. "They're just _kids_!"

"And what did _we_ get up to when _we _were that age?" Ron countered. "Hell, you killed a Basilisk when you were bloody _twelve_, and took on a hoard of Dementors when you were _thirteen_! You even took on a dragon at fourteen! You don't think some of _them_ might be dangerous?"

"It's for their own protection, I think," Ginny surmised, "I mean, _think_ about it? Look at Seamus' reaction! Do you _really_ think any of them would feel safe up here with us?"

"I doubt it," Luna said softly, coming over from the Ravenclaw table. "Has anyone told the House Elves that they might have to cater to them for a bit? I bet they're hungry."

"Are you mad?" Seamus gasped.

"Well, a lot of people _think_ I am, yes, thank you," Luna shrugged, "but the children have to eat, don't they? And the funeral is tomorrow, remember? What if some of them are orphans now? Where will they go? What will they do? Stay down there in their dormitories and starve?"

"Luna's right," Harry nodded, "This isn't right."

"Harry?!" Seamus exclaimed.

"But Ginny's right, _too_," Harry added, "They're _not _safe here. Not now. The kids might be innocent, but their parents aren't. And some of...us...might not think they're innocent."

"Says the guy who kept ol' Malfoy from fallin' into the fire," Ron mumbled.

"Ron, if I'd let Draco die, we could well have lost this war," Harry told him. "There's a story there you don't know yet."

"Can't wait to hear it," Ron shrugged.

"Ronald!" Hermione punched his arm.

"I'm afraid of them, sir," Dennis then spoke up. "They were mean to us. P-Please, Harry? Can't you just send them home?"

Neville dropped his fork, which clattered loudly on his plate. "The day before you three got back, Harry," he reminded them, "We were to practice the Cruciatus Curse on Firsties. The two we were using were Slytherins." He jabbed Seamus in the ribs. "Tell me _you'd_ have tortured those little boys?"

"_They_ would have done it ter us! Hell, the older ones DID do it to us! Why you think I hate Crabbe so much?" Seamus retorted. "Him _and_ god-damn Goyle! What kind of brute stands there and laughs at you, while yer screamin' like your bloody _balls_ are being ripped off, while yer pissin' yer pants, and LAUGH at you?"

"I took a _beating_ for those two kids," Neville then stood up, "And I'm _not_ going to sit here wondering if they got any dinner or not! It's wrong!"

"I think it's barbaric, but there is a certain logic to it," Hermione put in.

"Just remember, they're still just kids," Luna reminded them, as she got up to leave. "You'll excuse me, but Father I are going Nargle hunting!"

"Oh bloody hell," Ron groaned, palming his face.

"I need to speak to Mrs. Malfoy," Harry informed them, when he'd finished eating. He'd surprised himself with how hungry he'd been, and was pleased to see that Dennis was eating. The boy had managed to get pudding all over his face, and some on his tie as well.

"Andromeda's been looking for you," Hermione reminded him, "But I don't see her now?"

"Later," Harry waved her off. "This is important. That, and I'll have Kreacher make sure the Slytherins are being looked after."

"I'd make 'em work it off," Seamus muttered. "Clap 'em in irons and have free slave labor!"

"No chains," Dennis whimpered.

Harry got up to go, but Dennis grabbed his hand. He noticed George holding Angelina's just as tightly. He had an idea. "Dennis, have you met Ron's mum?" Harry asked, as he introduced them.

With both Mrs. Weasley and Dennis taken care of, Harry headed down to the dungeon level. At the top of the stairs, he met up with two Aurors. He didn't know them, but he requested to see Arthur Weasley, and they let him pass.

"No, Harry," Mr. Weasley told him bluntly, "You are _not_ going in there! Wands or not, they'll try to kill you!"

"Mr. Weasley, please!" Harry asked, "You know I'll just get in there one way or another?"

"Don't make this any harder than it is, Harry," Percy said, "Miss Parkinson already tried to break out when the nurses came to check on them."

"Are they OK?" Harry asked.

"I don't know why you're so concerned, Harry," Arthur replied, "But yes, all their injuries were minor and have been treated. You'll recall that Pansy wanted to hand you over the other night?"

"Yes, sir, but they're just kids!" Harry persisted. "Have they had dinner?"

"Yes, the Elves apparated in with it, why?" Percy wondered.

"Because that's the first meal they've had since the fight!" Harry snapped.

Arthur and Percy looked genuinely shocked, and Harry believed them. They didn't know.

"KREACHER!" Harry called, and the old Elf emerged from the doorway – by opening it.

"Mast-...erm, Harry, sir?" He croaked.

"Kreacher, if you're up to it, and you have the time, could you make sure none of the kids in there are hurt? Make sure they're warm and have enough to eat?" Harry asked.

Kreacher looked puzzled. "Yes, sir, but this one boy needs to goes hospy-ital! His lights is on, but no one's home."

"Hospital?" Harry gasped, "Why?"

"He's catty-tonic, sir?"

"_Catatonic_?" Harry gasped.

"Don't talks, don't moves," Kreacher shrugged. "Avery, he is."

"Fetch him," Harry said flatly.

Kreacher did that. The boy just stood there staring at nothing, drooling, his trousers wet. He was unresponsive.

"I'm taking him to Hospital! And I want an Elf with these kids at all times!"

"Sir," Kreacher bowed, then vanished.

"Harry," Percy looked ill, "We didn't know."

"Did you even _check_ on them?" Harry asked, feeling of two minds on the issue. More than one of them, he knew, would probably have betrayed him, given the chance. Part of him knew that Arthur was right, too. But so was Luna.

It hurt.

"Son, the funeral is tomorrow," Arthur patted his shoulder. "How's Molly holding up? He sniffed.

"She's entertaining Dennis Creevey at the moment," Harry replied, which only made him feel worse. Thoughts of Fred, Colin, and the others came back to him in a rush, and thought he might lose his dinner. He also didn't want to burden them with it, but he also knew that if anyone could start a proverbial snowball rolling the hill, it was Percy. "I need to tell you both something, something about Dennis – and probably a few others. Ginny brought it up, and _she_ wasn't, but...but...there were terrible things done here to students this past year."

"We know," Percy nodded, "Unforgivable Curses, gruesome detentions, torture, beatings..." He looked at Avery, who didn't respond.

"Did you know that male Death Eaters were raping girls and molesting little boys?" Harry added, and they both froze. "Percy, you're going to find yourself pretty high up in the Ministry very soon, I think, just like you always wanted. I expect you'll make sure there's an inquiry into this?"

Both Weasleys went very pale. Percy nodded. "And I want to be notified when you bring them in!" Harry then turned on his heel and stalked away, Avery following along like a robot. But if Harry released his hand, he just stopped.

Yes, the funeral was in the morning...

It was decided that they would have one mass outdoor funeral to honor the fallen. The fine May weather held clear, and the Hogwarts grounds had not seen such a large turnout since the last great Quidditch playoffs. In fact, it seemed as if every witch and wizard in the whole of Europe had come to attend the services. There were dress robes, of course, and costumes from foreign lands. There were even the Muggleborns, come out of hiding, their childrens' fears for themselves and their parents gone.

Harry was relieved to see Mr. and Mrs. Creevey there, although Dennis had been following him around all morning - ever since they'd had the formality of ID'ing the body, when Harry had met Colin's parents. For the second time in his life, he'd heard a mother scream for her lost child.

_This will NOT happen again,_ Harry told himself once more.

The Fat Friar, the Ghost of Hufflepuff House, presided over the services. He waxed eloquent about the bravery of those who had fought and died, and when he turned the services over to Acting Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt – who read the names of the fallen, one by one – there was not a dry eye to be found on the campus.

And with every name read, Harry Potter felt his heart breaking just a little bit more – even if he didn't recognize some of the names.

But it was the names that he _did_ recognize that tore at him.

"Colin Creevey," the Minister read, and the first tear rolled down Harry's cheek. Somewhere in the crowd, there was sobbing, and it sounded like a child.

And the Minister went on.

"Remus Lupin," the Friar said, and the only slight comfort Harry could find was knowing that the last Marauder to fall must now be reunited with his friends. "Nym-…I mean, Dora Tonks." And was the Friar grinning just a bit? Harry had to wonder, as somewhere in the crowd, a baby began to cry.

Harry then braced himself, dreading the rapid approach to the letter "W" and what he knew he would hear.

"Fred Weasley."

And as he was seated with the family, Harry held Ginny's hand tightly as Mrs. Weasley broke down with a cry that Harry would remember hearing for the rest of his life.

"Oh, Fred, what the bloody hell will we do now?" George mumbled, his face streaked with tears and his expression lost as he held just as tightly to Angelina Johnson's hand.

Harry didn't remember much very much else of the service – only that he was enormously relieved when Shacklebolt turned things back over the Fat Friar, who did not call upon Harry to speak. As he closed, though, their eyes met. Harry made his choice. Harry nodded slightly, and the Friar summoned him to the podium.

"I have no words to comfort you," Harry began, amplifying his voice with a Sonorus Charm to carry it down and over the lawn, all the way to front gates, "Save this – this will _not_ happen again! When I turned eleven, as many of you know, I had no idea that this world even existed, or why everyone thought I was a celebrity, or something? I had no idea that it could _ever_ turn out like this. I certainly didn't want it to, and I'm sorry that it couldn't have ended differently. But this isn't about _me_. It's about the future." He looked beyond the crowd to the damaged castle. "It's about what _we _can do to ensure, as I said, that this will _not _happen again."

There was polite applause as Harry stepped down, but as he did, he realized something – there was not one single Slytherin student or any trace of green to be seen.

Horace Slughorn was not there.

_What _will_ we do now_?

That was exactly what Harry was thinking as he and his friends sat under the broken hoops of what remained of their beloved Quidditch pitch. They were all looking up at the battered castle and all wondering the same thing. All that remained of Dumbledore's Army was there, having somehow gravitated to the spot for reasons unknown, almost as if drawn there by some force of which they weren't consciously aware. Perhaps it had been their need to get away from everyone after the funeral services, to escape the platitudes, and those who sought comfort by talking to those who had actually done the fighting.

It was Ron who finally voiced the thought.

"_Merlin_, I'm glad that's over with. So, where do we go from here?"

No one answered him for the longest time. No one seemed to know what to say. The damage had been so terrible, and there were so many wounded and dead to think about. And then there were the walking wounded, they all realized, as they just sat there – much closer together than they normally would have sat.

"I just can't leave it like this," Harry mumbled, after what seemed quite a while. "It was the first place I ever really felt at home, you know, somewhere that I belonged."

"You're not saying we stay and help fix it, are you?" Ron exclaimed, "Harry, we're not construction workers, you know?! That's bloody mental!"

"I think it's a lovely idea," Hermione agreed with Harry, as she sat leaning on Ron. Ron, it seemed, didn't mind at all.

"Oh, well, I suppose it MIGHT have some merit," Ron backtracked, as Hermione playfully punched his arm. "Woman, would you STOP beating on me?"

"I think it's fantastic!" Neville agreed.

"Yes, we're vulnerable to a Nargle attack, you know," Luna agreed, from her place next to Neville. Everyone gave her a look, but Luna was as nonplussed as ever.

"Yeah, an' maybe once she's all fixed back up, we can get a proper Seventh Year education and really graduate?" Seamus Finnigan offered, "Take our NEWTS, an' see what kinda jobs we'll be wantin'?"

"Well, what else have we got to do?" Dean Thomas asked, "I mean, it's not like _I _got any education this past term, you know?" He paused. "It's kinda like getting your last, best year yanked out from under you?"

"It won't be quite the same, though," Harry added, looking at them all and realizing that he honestly didn't know the half of what Seamus and Neville had been put through that year while trying to attend Hogwarts under the control of Dark Wizards. He shivered at the thought of DADA classes under Carrow, and actually being taught to do Unforgivable Curses. The one thing Crabbe was ever top of the class at, someone had told him. "But I think it's pretty obvious what we need to do."

"Harry, how's the Avery boy?" Luna asked.

"No change," Harry said, but no else asked.

Again, no one spoke for a while. When Harry got up to stretch, he felt the need to do…something. The problem was, he just wasn't sure what.

"Let's have a look around, you know, sort of take in the damage?" he asked uncertainly.

And his friends followed him.

They were just examining the fringe of the Forbidden Forest, with Harry showing them the path to the clearing where he'd offered himself up, when a CRACK! behind them made them all jump, wands at the ready.

Standing there was Kreacher the house elf, and he did not look pleased.

"Where is you going?" He demanded of them all. "We has lunch ready!"

"Thanks, Kreacher!" Ron smiled at him, as they all followed the house elf back to the castle.

"Amazing how he's changed," Hermione whispered to Harry. "Do you think he'll stay, or want to go back to Grimmauld Place?"

"Kreacher will always serve the noble House of Black, if he can," the elf stated, apparently having overheard Hermione, who blushed. "Kreacher was wrong before, for so long, and he didn't realize that until he learned of what his dear master Regulus was doing. Until he learned of what Harry Potter was doing, too!" Then the elf sighed heavily. "But the noble House of my Masters, sadly, is all gone. All that remain are Dark Wizards and Witches, no one fit for Kreacher to serve anymore. They all wanted serve the Dark One," the elf said quietly, "The one who killed Master Regulus."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed, "You're going to do what _you_ want to do, remember?"

"Kreacher never even apologized to Harry Potter and his brave friends," the elf realized, suddenly looking very ashamed of himself. "Can they forgive a foolish old house elf?"

Of them all, it was Hermione who first smiled at him and offered him her hand. Ron flinched, probably thinking that Kreacher would bite her or something. After all, they hadn't been on the best terms with the house elf since meeting him.

"A noble elf from a noble House," Hermione nodded, as they shook hands. "And don't be so sad, Kreacher. The House of Black hasn't fallen, not really. There's still someone whom you might serve, someday?"

"Oh!" Kreacher gasped, "Who?" He asked anxiously.

But it was Harry who answered, a bewildered look crossing his face. Was Kreacher getting senile?

"_Teddy_," Harry said softly, his eyes going distant. Then he looked down at Kreacher. "Teddy Remus Lupin. Grandson of Andromeda Black-Tonks?"

Kreacher gaped at him.

"Ahhh, Kreacher hasn't seen Mistress Andromeda in sooooo very long," he pined. "And all over a marriage they didn't like." He shook his head, his large ears waving. "Kreacher was so stupid, he was," the elf berated himself. "Master Teddy will probably never have him," the elf fretted.

"You know," Ron spoke up, "In a perverse sort of way, this almost makes us related, Harry. You being Teddy's Godfather, and all?"

"Oh dear!" Hermione exclaimed, as they approached the ruined entrance hall of the castle where a few carpenters were trying to put the great oaken doors back together. "It's all rather complex, isn't it? How you're all related? What a family tree that must be?"

"Poor Teddy," Ron sighed, "To think he's got Malfoy as a cousin, too?"

"I think I'll – errr – not bother to tell him _that_ for a while, until he's much older," Harry decided right then. "Are the Malfoys still here?"

"I think Kingsley was talking about moving them to the Ministry holding rooms soon," Ron answered. "Why?"

"Kid's gonna have enough problems as it is," Harry mumbled, deep in thought.

But if anyone knew what Harry meant, they said nothing. After all, it was common knowledge that Teddy Lupin's parents had been a werewolf and a metamorphmagus. It was hard telling how the baby would turn out as he grew up and slowly came into his own.

"Harry!" Neville squeaked, "If Tonks and Lupin are dead, though," he spoke uncertainly, "And you're the Godfather, then doesn't custody of Teddy fall to you right off?"

They all stared at Harry.

"Oh!" Kreacher sighed, "Surely Master Sirius' Godson will bring the baby for Kreacher to see? Kreacher MUST make a nursery ready!" He wrung his ears. "The house is such a mess, too!"

"He's gone mental! Kreacher-the-nanny?" Ron whispered to Hermione, who had to nod. Given the elf's past behavior, it was quite the shock to see him acting so.

"Well, the baby is with his grandmother Andromeda now," Harry explained, "And I've not heard from her, I mean," Harry began to ramble nervously, "I know we've been busy and all, and I am Teddy's Godfather, like Sirius was to me, but I don't know if she'll want to…I mean, Teddy's all she's got now, even though they are still of the House of Black, and wouldn't it be rude of me if…"

"HARRY!" Hermione interrupted him. "Think about it! I know not having a proper family might make it hard for you to understand, but think of it this way – how do you think your Aunt Petunia would act if Dudley presented her with a new little bundle of joy?"

"_Don't_ mention the Dursleys to me," Harry pulled a face, "Spoil him rotten, she would! Never let go of him!"

"Aye, just like me Gram does me!" Seamus offered.

"Wait, wait, wait," Neville interjected, "Are we talking about GRANDMOTHERS here?"

"Yes," Hermione confirmed, looking at Harry. "For now, don't worry about it. I'm sure that when anything you need to know about happens, Andromeda will contact you!" She paused. "Unless you've been avoiding her?"

Harry blushed a bit. "I...I have," he confessed.

"You faced down Voldemort, and you're scared of a _baby_?" Hermione admonished him.

And with that thought in mind, they all headed in for lunch in the somewhat-repaired Great Hall. While the windows were all back in, the enchanted ceiling was only working sporadically, revealing a blue sky with the occasional puffy white cloud that shifted to timbers and ceiling panels at random. They had all just sat down at the tables when Professor McGonagall called for their attention.

Before she spoke, she glanced around at the House tables – where there were more than a few familiar faces missing. And aside from Professor Slughorn, the Slytherin table was still deserted. She was just about to speak when a small group of students in plain clothes came through the doors, escorted by several adults – Bill and Charlie Weasley included.

"The Slytherin underclassmen," Neville whispered, watching as the children entered the Hall slowly, heads bowed, hands clasped behind their backs, and went to sit quietly at their dusty table. None of them looked up.

Harry then heard a small, strangled sound. He looked back at his table to see a small Firstie that he didn't know, sitting next to Dean Thomas and clutching his arm. The child was shaking badly, bearing an expression of terror.

"_Now_ do you see why?" Seamus noticed as well.

"Friends," McGonagall then addressed them all, as if she hadn't even noticed anything, "We've been through a great deal recently, as I'm sure you all know!" She paused for a bit of nervous laughter, but the sound of relief from everyone was apparent. "While the wounded are now recovering in the hospital wing, with the worst of them now off to St. Mungo's, the cleanup is going well," she gestured around the hall, "And there is MUCH to be done. My thanks, as Acting Headmistress, to all who have decided to stay and take on this enormous task."

There was more applause, despite the glares being directed at the Slytherin students.

"However," she continued.

"Here it comes," Ron mumbled.

"She's staying on!" Ginny said. "I thought for sure she'd retire now!"

"Probably die at her desk of old age at 200 or so," Dean put in.

"I heard that, Mr. Thomas," McGonagall surprisingly smiled at him. Dean gulped. "And you're right! While I'm certainly no spring chicken, I think I've got a number of good years left in me! Dear Albus, bless his heart, was about 150, you know?"

There was a great deal of applause, which McGonagall waved off.

"Those from the village who know architecture and building have advised me that we need volunteers," she went on, in that classroom voice of hers. "It's going to be a long summer of rebuilding, and I'm asking for your help to repair Hogwarts, so that we can be open on the first of next September to resume business as usual! Acting Minister of Magic Shacklebolt is already insisting upon it!"

"Business as usual?" Ron gasped, "What, with no Dark Lord chasing after Harry, no plots, no gigantic monsters, no intrigues?" It wasn't funny at all, but the Gryffindors still had to snicker – although Harry failed to see the humor in it.

"Boring," Seamus drawled.

"I'm ready to be bored!" Neville agreed happily.

"Well yeh can count on Grawpy and me!" Hagrid bellowed. "'t'won't be nothin' fer Grawpy to haul rocks up 'ere!"

"Rocks!" Grawp agreed happily, peeking through the hole in the wall with a huge smile.

All eyes at the Gryffindor table then turned to Harry, as if they were waiting to see what he would do. Technically, there was nothing legal to hold him there. And even though his education was not formally complete, it was pretty much assured that no one was going to be asking to see _his_ NEWT scores, should he want a job somewhere!

"I can't leave her, not like this," Harry breathed, personifying the castle with reverence in his voice, as he remembered his first look at the Great Hall…

_Ron was by his side, and there were hundreds of candles floating around. The ceiling looked like the night sky, and somewhere, he could smell something wonderful cooking…there were children at all four tables... _

Coming back to himself, Harry stood up and nodded to Professor McGonagall.

"That's one," she smiled back at him.

And then the rest of the students, those who had remained after the services, stood up as well.

When the cheers and shouts had finally died down again, and lunch was over with, owls began flying with news of the proposed rebuilding. Floos were lit, and the presses were stopped at the Daily Prophet to print the story:

"**Hogwarts to be Repaired! Reopening September 1st!" **

A call went out to anyone and everyone who was willing to help, and by the end of the day, Hogsmeade Village didn't have a room open to rent. Few students who had evacuated went home that night, and even more tents were pitched on the school grounds to accommodate the volunteers.

The students, of course, stayed in their usual Houses, and for the first time in a long time, Hogwarts was to spend the summer full of life and activity. The only difference was with Slytherin House, which much to Professor Slughorn's dismay, had lost almost all of its members. The process was slow, but as parents were interrogated and cleared of any wrongdoing, children were reunited with them and went home. Those who had been orphaned, and who weren't in care at St. Mungo's Children's Ward, were placed in a shelter in Hogsmeade set up by Percy Weasley at the behest of the Ministry. Despite his other promise to Harry, Percy did it simply because no one else wanted the job.

When Cameron Avery was moved by Madame Pomfrey to St. Mungo's, though, Slughorn sought out Harry. He'd made his choice, as he headed up to Gryffindor Tower.

"They used to board students here, you know, over the summers," Hermione was telling them all in the fairly deserted Gryffindor common room that night. "I read about it in…"

"**Hermione's Bloody, Blithering, History of Hogwarts**," Ron cut in, laughing. "Say, why don't _you_ write a new edition? You can chronicle the rebuilding to torment future generations with?"

Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Now yeh've gone an' done it," Seamus grinned, "That'll drive the rest of 'em off to bed!" And sure enough, it did!

Harry looked lost in thought, though, and it was George who noticed it.

"Maybe Voldemort – Riddle – wouldn't have turned out so bad if they had continued that," Harry mused, "I remember Dumbledore telling me that young Tom grew up in a Muggle orphanage."

"Hard to believe, in all the Wizarding World, there was no one who wanted to take in an orphaned child," George muttered in a distracted tone, "No wonder he went bad." Then he got up. "Excuse me, but I should go and find Angelina," he offered, as he fled the common room.

"I don't think he'll ever get over this," Ron shook his head, as Hermione took his hand. Next to Harry, Ginny did the same.

They were all just sitting there, thinking those long thoughts, when the Fat Lady of the Portrait called out, "HARREEEEEEY! HARRY POTTER? You have a guest!"

"Now who could that be?" Harry grumbled, as he got up to see who might be wanting to come and idly chat with him this time. There had been a great deal of that going on lately, almost as if those who had lost someone were coming to Harry seeking solace. And while he had offered it as best he could, it was beginning to wear on him.

But it was also better than those who tended to avoid him, which bothered Harry as well. It made him wonder what they could be thinking, as if they might be holding him personally responsible for their losses.

Bracing himself, Harry opened the portrait door.

"Professor Slughorn! Come in!" Harry greeted him.

"No need, Potter," the portly old man told him, "I have one thing to say, so I'll just say it! This is wrong, Potter, and I'll not be party to it." He handed him a framed photo that Harry recognized from his Slug Club Gallery: His mother, Lily. "I'm leaving."

"_Sir_?!" Harry gasped.

"If my students aren't welcome, there's no reason for me to stay," Slughorn explained. "The Ministry's begun taking them away, you see. All the adults and of-age students have been moved to a holding facility, some even to Azkaban already. _Such _efficiency!" He peeked in the door. "I see your younger students are still here?" Harry nodded to him. "My Slytherins aren't. Those that aren't in hospital, and save for the lucky few who've gone home, are being moved to a shelter in the village, did you know?"

"No, sir?"

"Well, they _are_," Slughorn went on. "Their wands have been confiscated, their trunks packed, and one way or another, they're being shipped out!" Again, he paused. "I thought you were going to look into the cases of child abuse here, too?"

Everyone in the room looked surprised, but...no one said a word. Harry stared at the picture in his hand.

"There's more to pay attention to, Potter, than just fixing the roof here," Slughorn turned to go, and Harry noticed the harsh use of his surname. Gone was the jovial old man he'd met two years before, and in his place was someone that Harry didn't recognize. "I'd thought you were going to speak to the Malfoys? You might be interested to know that they've been placed on house arrest – something that Andromeda said you said to her, I wonder?" He shrugged. "No matter."

"Sir, _I'm _not in charge here!" Harry spluttered, "What do you expect _me _to do about all this?"

"I _expected_ you to do the right thing," Slughorn replied without looking back, his words echoing down the corridor as he walked away, "Whether you realize it or not, Potter, it _is_ in your power to do so. The new Minister _will_ listen to you."

As he rounded the Newel post to head down the stairs, he nearly ran into McGonagall and Andromeda. He didn't say a word, however, as he descended the stairs. The two women watched him go.

"What was _that _about?" McGonagall wondered.

"Professor Slughorn's leaving," Harry shrugged. "I guess he holds _me_ responsible for how his students are being treated?"

"As if _you_ run the Ministry now?" Andromeda snorted.

"Mrs. Tonks!" Harry exclaimed, looking down at the squirming, crying bundle in her arms. There was also a brilliant shock of blue hair peeking out of the light blue blanket. Harry just stood there gaping.

Andromeda made to hand him the baby. "I was beginning to think you've been avoiding us?" She smiled wanly.

"B-but, I don't know _how_ to hold a baby!" Harry almost panicked, his words with Slughorn momentarily forgotten.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Potter, there's nothing to it!" McGonagall informed him, as if instructing some transfiguration lesson in class that he just wasn't getting, "Support the head, firm but gentle grasp, both arms, that's it!" She encouraged him, as Andromeda placed the baby in his arms.

Very carefully, his eyes never leaving the crying infant, Harry carried the baby into the common room proper, gazing upon his Godson for the very first time.

"I thought it was time you met your Godson, proper. That, or I was going to have to send an owl?" Andromeda explained, and Harry just nodded.

"Oh, he's so cute!" Ginny exclaimed, "He's got his mother's hair!"

"It turns blue when he's upset," Andromeda explained, "Looks like the metamorphmagus gene bred true."

"Everyone, th-this is my Godson, Teddy Lupin," Harry said, his voice catching as he felt something inside of himself that he had never felt before. For a moment, he thought he might be ill, but his questioning glance to Professor McGonagall was answered by a knowing nod.

Seamus, Dean, and Neville fled the room at once. The women snorted. Ron looked terrified as Ginny beckoned to Harry to come and sit, so that she and Hermione could have a better look at Teddy.

But as Harry held him close, leaning down for a closer look at the child, Teddy stopped crying and reached out a pudgy little hand to grasp Harry's finger. His blue hair then shifted into a sandy brown color, and he stopped crying.

"You have the touch, Potter," McGonagall observed, "I think he likes you?"

For Harry, who had never known the love of a family of his own, it was all so confusing and alien. Granted, he had seen plenty of family with the Weasley Clan, and while Molly had once said that he was as good as her own son, the feelings that Harry was now experiencing were disorienting. For just an instant, he had the wild urge to run up to his dorm room with Teddy and lock the door, Cursing anyone into oblivion who might dare to take the baby from his arms.

But as he dismissed that silly notion, knowing that he was among friends and those he trusted, Harry remembered something else, almost hearing Dumbledore saying: "He grew up in a Muggle orphanage…"

"That won't happen," Harry said aloud, without realizing it. "I will not allow it to happen."

"_What _won't happen, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"I won't let him grow up an orphan!" Harry choked, suddenly overcome. He clenched his eyes shut, and while he'd never been one to cry or show much emotion in front of others, this time it could not be helped. "I WILL not allow this to happen again!"

As Harry Potter held his Godson, all of the memories of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin came flooding back in on him with stark clarity.

But the Lupins were gone.

_We'd like you to be his Godfather, Harry._

"Harry?" Ginny asked softly, leaning in to put her arm around him. "What is it?"

"I…I shouted at him," Harry managed, shaking his head, "I called him a c-coward...R-Remus, I mean?"

Then Harry began gently rocking Teddy in his arms, tears spilling down his face as his body shuddered with the release of years and years of pent up grief and guilt. He thought of his parents, of Dumbledore, of Sirius – and as ridiculous as it felt – even Colin Creevey: _everyone_ who had come into his life in the last seven years, and then _left _it. For so long, he'd had to hide those feelings, not show any weakness. He'd had to keep himself strong, not surrendering to his own hurts for the sake of being able to bring himself to face Voldemort. It seemed that for all of his Wizarding life, Harry had had to be the strong and brave one, for the greater cause.

For the greater good.

_Where have I heard those words before?_

But no more.

Something had broken.

Harry Potter wept.

His tears fell upon Teddy, as if baptizing him in an odd way, forming a bond between them. But this didn't seem to bother the now-sleeping infant, who had let go of Harry's finger and snuggled down into his blanket with a happy little coo.

"I've waited seven years for this," McGonagall whispered to Andromeda, "He's never let it out – until now. I don't think he _could_."

"I don't think Teddy has anything to worry about, Minerva," Andromeda said. "I came here fretting about me being the only one in the world that Teddy has, wondering if Harry even cared about us?"

Harry then looked up at them, and then at Ginny, who was holding out her arms. Reluctantly, Harry handed Teddy to her, gasping as if something had physically been ripped out from inside him. He didn't understand it, and thought of calling Madame Pomfrey – the pain of it was that great – when Hermione patted his arm and conjured up a handkerchief for him. Yet as he wiped his face and blew his nose, all Harry could think about was getting Teddy back into his arms.

What they were all going to do with their futures suddenly didn't matter.

The repairs to the castle didn't matter.

Finishing his education didn't matter.

The threat of rogue Death Eaters didn't matter.

_All _that mattered was what was wrapped up in that blue blanket that Ginny now held.

_You will grow up in a better world, _Harry silently promised baby Teddy.

When Harry finally got hold of himself, his face red from crying and embarrassment, he faced Andromeda Tonks. And summoning all of the Gryffindor courage that he could muster, said, "I will protect this child."

Andromeda didn't say a word. She didn't have to. Her smile was enough for Harry to understand, and in that instant, he knew that his life had just changed again.

"Oh, Harry," Ginny whispered, her voice full of pride and awe.

"Oh, Harry!" Ron croaked, his face pink and his voice full of terror as he stared at his little sister, seated next to his best friend, and holding a baby!

"Oh, Ronald!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly!"

"And speaking of honesty," Andromeda spoke up, "Harry, there's something about Teddy that you need to know!"

[35m:24s, DH2 DVD, appearance of "Cameron Avery"]


	3. Chapter 3-Conversations

**Dark Mirror X**

**3**

**Conversations**

"**_When the heart rules the mind, one look, and love is blind." _- GTR, ©1986 Geffen Records, "GTR"**

"**_He's a rival, he's my friend, always winning in the end. Only the Hunter survives."_ - The Hunter, GTR**

"Harry?" Ron was asking, "Harry, what do you think? Expansion Charms? HARRY?!"

Harry flinched, looking up sharply at his friend. For just a moment, he could have sworn he saw a small ginger boy with dirt on his nose – a boy with no clue that he was standing next to Harry Potter. For an irrational moment, Harry wished that he could go back to that day: a day when there was nothing to do but ride the train, eat candy, and enjoy sharing time with a new friend. He'd never had friends before. He'd never had such candy before. And the world had stretched out before him like some great road to a bright future.

"Or do you want me to tell them to rough it in Amos Diggory's tents with Dad?" Ron asked, sounding annoyed.

"Sorry?" Harry offered, still coming out of his reverie. He was also still trying to process the information of what Andromeda had just told him about Teddy. He was still trying to come to grips with the fact that his baby Godson was a werewolf, just as Remus Lupin had feared.

"The beds, Harry?" Ron repeated, rolling his eyes. "Merlin's shorts, a few hours with Teddy, and it's just like they say – give the smartest man in the world a baby, and he turns into a babbling idiot! Do – we – expand – the – beds – for – my – brothers?" Ron then grinned at him, saying it slowly. "C'mon, I think you know by now I'm not gay!" He added, laughing. Neville and Seamus laughed as well.

"That joke's so old, it wasn't funny when Merlin was a kid," Dean snorted.

"I remember the winters when the Warming Charms would fail, we'd double up a lot just to keep warm," Charlie mused. "Camp out in sleeping bags by the hearth."

"Been a while since we've been here," Bill agreed. "Lots of good memories."

"It's amazingly tidy," Percy complimented them.

"Yes, good memories," George nodded, sitting on the edge of Ron's bed and just staring at the floor. "I should Portkey it back to the shop, you know. I can come back in the morning."

"George," Bill sat down next to him, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "The _last_ thing you need right now is to be alone."

"But I _am_ alone," George sighed, "For the first time in my life, I'm bloody well alone!" He cried, covering his face.

"No, you're not," Ron offered. "Listen, George, I can't begin to imagine what you're feeling, but..."

"NO, YOU CAN'T!" George shouted at him, "_NONE_ OF YOU CAN!"

Ron, however, stared him down. "No, we can't. You're right. But I know how _I _feel, Brother. And I wouldn't wish _that_ on even Voldemort, if he was still alive!"

Again, they stared at one another.

Then George hugged his younger brother. The others looked away, making excuses like having to go and brush their teeth, or have a pee before bed.

"So, bed space for ten, there's nine of us. Who's the odd man out?" Neville asked.

"**Percy**!" The Weasleys plus Harry all said in unison, laughing.

"_Well_," Percy huffed, looking ridiculous in his pressed pyjamas and nightcap.

"Perce?" George said softly, wiping his face on his sleeve, "You know how you had that awful run of bed wetting when you were ten?"

"Yeeeees?" Percy wondered.

"That was _all_ Fred's idea," George said quickly, and he smiled. Then his eyes went wide. "WWW Twin-Size Bed Wetting Sheets! GENIUS! Well make _millions_!"

"Scar your little brothers for life," Ron agreed. "From beyond the grave, Fred works his magic to make a whole new generation of kids miserable!" He flung out his arms dramatically.

"He'll never be gone, so long as we continue with the pranks," George said whimsically.

Harry snickered as Ron joined him in his expanded bed. "What?" Ron asked, "I know _you're_ not gay, the way you carry on with my sister!" He leered at Harry, then shook a finger at him. "You and her, sitting there together, holding a _baby_! It's enough to give me nightmares!"

"I...I'll just go sleep on a sofa in the Common Room," Dean then said nervously, "I don't want anyone to feel..." Everyone looked at him. Dean turned a redder shade of brown. Seamus raised his eyebrows. "I'm sorry, Harry. I should have just said it when I dumped Ginny a couple years ago." He looked at Ron and Harry. "We didn't break up over me being possessive or jealous or anything. It just wasn't working, and I...everyone else was dating, and I wasn't, and..."

Neville's eyebrows went up too.

Dean took a deep breath. "Well, you're not gay, OK, but _I am_. There, shite, I said it," Dean grabbed up his dressing gown.

"Damn, man!" Seamus exclaimed, "Were ya gay that year we went campin' with me folks?" Dean nodded. "An' you were gay when I spent that week at your place, in your room, and we...?" Dean nodded again. Seamus pulled a face at him.

"I knew I was gay when I was like nine," Dean mumbled.

"Well _now_ I'm really hacked off!" Seamus laughed. "_I_ wasn't good enough to make a pass at?"

Dean blinked at him. "I...I didn't wanna risk our friendship."

"Well, tha' explained the Hufflepuff jumper I found stickin' out from under yer bed last year," Seamus laughed.

"C'mon, _tell _us whose it is!" Neville snorted. Then he laughed. "I'm sorry, Dean! Hell, it's not like you couldn't guess!"

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," Dean mumbled.

"Oh, just get in the bloody bed!" Seamus flipped the blankets back, "I promise, we won't tell him!" He laughed. Then they all looked at_ him_. "What? You lot never jumped the fence before?" He asked the others, who looked stunned.

"Oh, bloody hell," Ron sighed, "I can't believe I'm_ party_ to this conversation!" The remaining Weasleys were laughing, though.

"_Exactly_ why I kept quiet about it," Dean said.

"More and more research suggests that homosexuality is caused by..." Percy began, but George chucked a pillow at him!

"Ron," Harry cut in, "Ginny I were planning to elope next week, just so you know."

Ron stared at him. For a moment, he seemed to believe it. "And I will practice my Reductor Curse on your _head_!" He finally smiled, realizing he'd just been had.

As they all settled in for the night, the lights dimmed automatically. Curtains slid shut of their own accord, but before they did, Harry pulled out his wand and aimed it Ron's nose. "You snore!" He warned him, "Hermione showed me this one!" He cast the Charm. Ron sneezed once.

"_Hermione_ said I snore?" Ron gasped.

"When did you and Hermione share a _bed_?" Charlie snickered.

Ron pulled the blankets over his head, muttering to himself.

"Ah, love!" Bill sighed.

"Speaking of, where's Fleur, anyway?" Percy asked.

"If you listen, you'll hear the sounds of a hen coop coming from the girls' dorm," Bill laughed. "It's been a while, she deserves a girls-only-night, don't you think?"

"Wonder what they do?" Neville mused.

"Girly things," Ron sniffed.

"Obviously," Charlie agreed, rolling his eyes.

"Are you _ever_ getting married, Charlie?" Percy asked.

"Doubtful. Unlike you lot, or unlike Mr. Thomas there, I'm not really interested in anyone or anything," Charlie replied.

"Honestly, I was beginning to think _you_ were gay," Percy pointed out.

"HEY!" Dean protested.

"On _that_ note, goodnight Charlie!" George said.  
"Goodnight, George."  
"Goodnight, Bill," George said.  
"Goodnight, George," Bill replied.  
"Goodnight, Ronniekins," George said.  
"Goodnight, George," Ron replied.

"ENOUGH!" Percy exclaimed. "Privacy Charms, now!"

"Goodnight, Percy!" George egged him on, but Percy didn't rise to the bait.

"He's still no fun at all," George added.

"You're sure you're OK with this?" Dean whispered to Seamus.

"OK with what?"

"Sleeping with _me_?" Dean clarified.

"Is _sleeping_ all you wanna do?"

"I _have_ a boyfriend, Seamus," Dean replied.

Seamus leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Dean, ya been me best mate fer years," he reminded him. "Thanks for believin' it were more important to protect that friendship. I wanted to tell someone too, ya know, about kinda likin' it both ways. I was scared too."

"Thanks," Dean whispered back.

"How's Justin?"

"Madame P. said it wasn't _that_ bad of a skull fracture," Dean's voice wavered. "He was awake a bit today, but she's worried about the concussion. It was bad."

"Musta been hell, this year. I missed you, worried you know. Not knowin' where ya were." Seamus paused. "You love him?"

"Yeah."

"Good," Seamus found his hand and squeezed it. "Make sure you tell _him_ that when he wakes up."

A night breeze rattled the loose windowpane, and perhaps that was what awakened Harry from his dream. Although he'd had enough trouble getting his racing mind to settle down so that he could fall asleep to begin with, he couldn't say that he was sorry for being awakened. It wasn't as if the dream had been a nightmare; no, it had been more of a hodge-podge of curious and disturbing imagery that made no sense.

Knowing that it wouldn't wake Ron, who slept like a log, Harry reached over to the night stand and poured himself a glass of water. He realized that for a second, he'd thought it might be Hedwig bringing him a letter. He was surprised to find that he suddenly felt like crying again. There'd been no time to grieve for her, his first – and only – beloved pet. More than that, she'd been his friend when there'd been no one else. Long, awful summers with the Dursleys, his Fifth Year when everyone had seemed to be turning on him, and more.

He didn't even know where she'd fallen. There'd been no time to recover her body. He didn't think he could ever own another owl.

_But she was there_, Harry remembered, _She was there, sitting on top of something. Furniture? A housewares fixture_? He lay back on his pillow. There had been a large room, he recalled. _The Room of Requirement? _He'd been looking at something, where Hedwig was sitting. _Me! It was a mirror_!

He thought harder about it, his hand instinctively going for his wand.

He was staring into a mirror, yes. His footsteps, as he was dressed, echoed in the large, empty room as he walked towards it. He looked into a mirror, seeing himself dressed up like some deranged Muggle superhero in a leather outfit with a long trench coat. He was older, he recalled. Older, harder. He was holding a wand.

_Not my wand,_ Harry recalled with a start: the Elder Wand.

But it _was_ his wand. He'd won it: won it from Draco Malfoy.

He looked back up at Hedwig, so happy to see her. But then she'd flown off. Looking back in the mirror, Harry gasped. He looked back to where Hedwig had been sitting, and saw the backwards writing: **Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi**.

_The Mirror of Erised_!

_But why would I want to look like Mad Eye Moody?_

There were two young boys staring back at him from the Mirror then. They were dressed all in white – hospital whites. _Draco and I? Why would I want to see Draco? … You DO want to see Draco, remember?_

But the boys were _not_ Harry and Draco. The blond, Harry recalled, had had blue eyes, not gray, and his face wasn't as pointed. The black-haired boy didn't have a forehead scar either, although his eyes were green. His glasses were rectangular.

_You have your mother's eyes..._he'd heard Severus Snape's voice whisper.

Then the boys were gone, vanishing in a puff of dust. Harry thought they'd looked sad, standing there holding hands.

"Uncle?" A piping voice of a child had then asked, and Harry remembered seeing another boy replace the first two. This boy had sparkling yellow eyes and pink hair that shifted to blue, then red, then brown.

_Teddy?_

Then the boy changed into a gray wolf, just like Professor McGonagall would change into a cat, and loped off with a howl that sounded happy. An image of that wolf chasing a cat flashed across the mirror.

"Harry Potter must choose carefully!" Dobby the House Elf was then telling him, shaking his head at the departing wolf and cat.

"Don't give it _all_ way, then!" Fred Weasley laughed, but their images both faded.

Harry stared at the mirror, watching Fred return to reach to the edge to pull someone else in.

He felt the tears again.

_I've cried more this week than I have in seven years, _Harry thought, as Colin Creevey raised his camera in the mirror, waving. Then he took a picture.

"Dennis was learning this, Harry. Make him keep at it!" Colin smiled.

"Now, now," Albus Dumbledore then spoke up, walking in from the other side and putting his arm about Colin's shoulders. "You're going to make us late!"

_It's correct, I would like to see them all again, _Harry realized, wiping his face. But what of those two boys he'd seen first? Who were they, if not he and Draco? _What might have been? I really did want to be friends with Draco, when I first met him in Madame Malkin's!_

"Remember, Harry," Dumbledore had said, "It is our choices that determine _who_ we are! Don't ever forget that!"

"Professor, why am I seeing two strangers?" Harry asked him.

"Because you _want_ to, you silly man!" Dumbledore laughed. "Don't you think you want a family? Maybe you want Draco to be happy, too?"

Then Dumbledore was gone, replaced by the Harry in a trench coat again. Mirror!Harry held up the Elder Wand, then raised his arm, vanishing beneath the Invisibility Cloak. On his finger was an ugly ring. Harry knew that ring.

He'd seen it in Dumbledore's office, in the Pensieve.

The black stone set in the gold ring was the Resurrection Stone.

Harry had seen himself, he realized with some bit of trepidation, as an Auror wielding all three of the Deathly Hallows.

"_No_," he breathed, remembering how the Mirror had gone dark just as he'd started awake. He pondered it all for almost an hour before giving up. He looked at the alarm clock. It was three in the morning. He got up, deciding to use the bathroom, since he'd just had a drink.

Down the hallway, he saw a blue glow. "Sir Nicholas?" He whispered. But the ghost turned to shush him. Through his outline, as Harry refocused his eyes, he saw Dennis Creevey, but Dennis didn't see him.

"There now, you're all sweaty, my boy," Sir Nicholas was telling him, passing his hand through Dennis' head and making the boy shiver. "That better?"

"Yes, sir, thank you," Dennis mumbled. "Are you _sure_, sir?"

"Child, you are _not_ the first one to seek my counsel. I can assure you that your brother, since he isn't here, like me, has gone on to something more wonderful than you can imagine!"

"But if it's so great, why don't _you_ go, sir?" Dennis asked.

"What makes you think I'm not perfectly happy here?" Sir Nicholas replied. "Besides, if I move on, who'd take care of all of you?"

Harry bit his lip, fading back into the shadows. Either Dennis had been up all night, or he'd had a bad dream, too.

"Would you stay, until I get back to sleep?" Dennis asked him.

"I will," Sir Nicholas agreed. "Just remember, Dennis, they're all gone now. No one will hurt you anymore."

_No one will hurt you anymore..._

When they'd gone, Harry stood staring into the bathroom mirror. He looked at his messy hair, his scar, and his green eyes. He didn't recall the last time he'd taken a good look at himself.

"I look awful," he fretted, wondering how it was that Ginny could see anything in him at all. "Women," he sighed, as he headed back to bed.

But as he carefully got back into bed with Ron, he couldn't help but feel the urge to get back up again. He needed to look for something. The urge was almost overwhelming. It was as if he'd lost something, and that something was calling to him.

"What I need to find is a good sleeping draught," He mumbled.

"Draught? Long as it's cold," Ron replied in his sleep, "I don't like spiders, Harry!"

"I know, Ron. Just offer them a cold one, they'll like that," Harry replied, knowing that Ron wouldn't remember it when he awoke in the morning.

"A round for my friends, here," Ron mumbled. Then he snored and rolled over, his arm flopping over Harry's chest.

And Harry fell back to sleep.

"I'm beginning to sense a plot here," Harry commented, as he and a few others surveyed the grounds that next day. Other than mowing grass and trimming hedges, Harry didn't know a thing about home repairs, and had no idea what to do.

"Do you have to carry _that_ around all day?" Ron asked, pointing at the baby carrier strapped to Harry's front.

"_That _is a baby," Luna informed him, tickling Teddy's chin. Teddy's hair turned very blond, like hers. "Where's Mrs. Tonks?"

"No idea," Harry mumbled, "And don't you dare make his hair turn blue!" Harry added, "WHERE is his grandmother? This is no place for a baby!"

"Well tha's the thing about babies, isn't it?" Ron asked, "They're either hungry, wet, smelly and in need of a new nappie, or they're just downright pissed off!" He grinned. "Or in YOUR case, needing a flea dip?" He joked.

"Aren't they though?" Molly Weasley commented, as she arrived in the vestibule where they were milling about and promptly snatched the baby. Teddy opened his eyes, and his hair changed to the ginger tint of the Weasley hair. His hair color, it seemed, shifted with his moods automatically.

"Mrs. Weasley," Harry offered shyly, "Thanks! But this time, if you hand him off, can someone tell me where he went, please? It took me all morning to find him!"

"You have to share the baby, Harry," Mrs. Weasley reminded him, "Everyone wants to see him! Don't they?" She then then began to babble at Teddy.

"And this is the witch who took out Bellatrix LeStrange," Ron mumbled, so that his mother wouldn't hear.

"Harry, was there something?" Luna asked him, as Molly fled with the baby, still babbling at him as she nearly ran into Mr. Filch around the corner. The crotchety old caretaker smiled as Teddy grabbed his finger and cooed. Mr. Filch seemed delighted.

"I'm gonna be ill," Ron sighed. Hermione kicked his shin.

"I feel...distracted," Harry admitted. He shook his head. "It's like I've been here, well, not HERE-here, you know, but I feel like I've done this before?"

"Déjà vu?" Luna wondered dreamily, "I get that all the time! It's perfectly normal."

They all stared at her.

"Maybe it's because there's so much to do that I don't know where to begin?" Harry wondered.

"Well, Kreacher was looking for you earlier," Hermione said, "And Professor McGonagall was, too. I think Shacklebolt's coming later as well."

"Maybe you should just wander about, Harry, until it comes to you?" Luna suggested. "That's what I usually do."

And so they all wandered on in to the Great Hall, since it sounded lively. The last large hole in the wall was being repaired, and they found all of the Professors, Mrs. Tonks, a few people that Harry didn't know, and Kingsley Shacklebolt all seated at the end of the Ravenclaw table to keep out of the way.

"Oh, this looks important," Luna observed, "We should go," and she and the others excused themselves.

"There you are!" Shacklebolt greeted Harry and the others, "We were just about to send out a search party. Have a seat. We have a lot to talk about!"

"Yes, we do," Harry agreed, as he was introduced to the group that turned out to be the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. He sat by Andromeda, and took Teddy. He looked at Shacklebolt again. "I see you've been formally declared Minister of Magic?"

"I was drafted," Kingsley laughed, "Which is part of why we're here. You're being drafted, too."

"Sir?" Harry gasped.

"As you probably didn't know, Potter," McGonagall informed him, "The Board is composed of three parents from each House, for a total of twelve. We have three to replace, since two were killed in the Battle, and one's in holding."

"All Slytherins," a member commented.

McGonagall nodded. "Be that as it may, it is up to the Board to replace teachers. We have a replacement for Professor Winston in Arithmancy, but we still have the usual problem of a DADA teacher."

"And I'm it?" Harry guessed.

"No else wants it," Madame Bones, from the Board, informed him.

"I'm sure you can fit it in with your Auror training, too," Shacklebolt added with a grin.

"But don't worry, as I'm moving to Hogsmeade," Andromeda added, "You'll have plenty of time to spend with Teddy, too."

"So what have you three decided to do with yourselves now, if anything?" McGonagall wondered, "We're debating as to whether to give students the option of making up this past year, however, aside from DADA, most of the class requirements were fulfilled."

"Which reminds me, I need to get rid of those poisonous mushrooms we were forced to study," Professor Sprout said.

"I think it's brilliant!" Hermione spoke up.

"Are you mad?" Ron protested. McGonagall looked at him hard. "I was thinking about working with George, actually. He shouldn't be...you know?"

"I understand, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall nodded primly. "Would you have any idea why he's volunteered in laundry with the Elves?"

"No clue," Ron smirked, remembering the idea for bed wetting sheets!

"What about you, Miss Granger?"

"I was thinking about pursuing Magical Law," Hermione replied. "You know, I've studied how our economy works, Minister, and I have to say, most of the laws you're using aren't fair at all."

"Oh here we go with the SPEW thing again," Ron groaned.

"No," Hermione went on, "It's not just that. It seems to me that there aren't many opportunities for advancement, especially if you're a Muggleborn. That, and almost everyone works for the government. Even pay scale is based on how important that a small group of people deems the job to be. Spying is rampant, and I think that might be why so many were eager to side with Voldemort. I mean, is it really a big deal if a child uses magic at home to fix a broken window or something?"

"Or save a life from a Dementor?" Harry cut in.

"That was Umbridge, and other Death Eaters trying to get you framed," One of the Governors commented.

"Tell that to that bitch, Mafalda Hopkirk," Ron told him bluntly.

"Still," Harry nodded to Hermione, "Do you really _investigate_ it? No. I got called on a Hover Charm when I was twelve that I didn't even DO! And this Trace business? If that's not an invasion of privacy, I don't know what _is_! And, yeah, _who cares _if a kid fixes his toy, or such? I do one Charm, and I get expelled? What the _fuck_ was that?"

"Noted," Kingsley jotted that down.

"Speaking of Umbridge," Harry went on, "Where is she?"

"Azkaban," Kingsley replied.

"She needs to stand trial for what she did here, and what she did this past year at the Ministry," Ron offered grimly.

"Tell _me_!" Harry held up his scarred hand. "Which reminds me, Minister – are you scheduling trials yet, or are you going to do like you all did with Sirius Black, and just toss them into prison?"

Everyone stared at him. "Did it even occur to you to give him Veritaserum, or check him for a Dark Mark? Maybe check his wand to see if HE was the one what performed the Curse that killed all those people? No! In fact, I'm considering filing suit over that, having a formal inquest," Harry grinned. "I'd like to hear Fudge defend himself on that one!"  
"And what about Hagrid? You carted him off to Azkaban, based on rumors? Did it ever occur to you lot, that if Myrtle died of an Acromantula bite, to check the body for a wound?! No. Instead, you took a Prefect's word and expelled Hagrid, blamed him, and then arrested him again fifty years later! I think if Hermione wants to go into law, it's probably a good idea. It needs an overhaul, Minister, to say nothing of how you've treated ME!" Harry felt himself becoming angrier the longer he spoke. "Unless, of course, Muggleborns aren't allowed to work in such high positions? I wonder, are any of you?" He turned to the Board. "Are any of the Wizengamot Muggleborns? Joke that it is?"

"Now just a minute, Potter," a man from the Board protested.

"Make a note to get me a lawyer, Hermione," Harry went on. "Now, getting back to the issue of trials for suspected Death Eaters?"

"That could take years!" Shacklebolt protested.

"Then it can _take _years," Hermione cut in, "Just because someone seemed to be in league with Voldemort, doesn't mean they were guilty. There's the Imperious Curse, threats held over them, and any number of other things. I'd suggest you start using the tools you have – Veritaserum, Legillimency, and even memory viewing via Pensieve."

"We don't have the staff!" Kingsley objected.

"Call Krum," Ron shrugged. "This war didn't make it to Durmstrang, and I'm sure he'd help – if _Hermione_ asked him?" He grinned.

Hermione kicked his shin again.

"Call Krum," Kingsley made a note. "Good idea, really." He sighed. "Anything else?"

"I've just gotten started," Harry replied, surprised by his own brashness. "I'd also like to request that when scheduling trials, you move the Malfoy family to last place."

"WHAT?!" They all gasped.

"Harry," Andromeda spoke up, but he cut her off.

"I need to speak with them," Harry said, "You lot don't know the half of it. I won't discuss it here in mixed company, but I will in private, Minister, after I've seen them. I believe they're on house arrest?"

"I'll send an owl to Cissy," Andromeda nodded, as Teddy woke up and began to fuss. She excused herself with him, and Harry felt a pang as she left with him.

"You plan to go to Malfoy Manor?" McGonagall gasped.

Harry shrugged. "I have three wands, they've got none. If I understand correctly, confiscation of wands is the norm now?"

Drinks and few snacks then appeared on the table.

"Next topic?" Kingsley asked, palming his face, "Before we go off on a tangent again. Voldemort's and Nagini's bodies?"

"I'll handle that," Harry surprised himself. He looked around at all of them. "Trust me, he's dead. He's not coming back again."

"What do you plan on doing with a corpse?" McGonagall gasped.

"You _don't_ want to know," Harry snarled, feeling the wand in his pocket tingle.

Kingsley cleared his throat. "Very well, then," he checked his notes, "We've had almost everyone agree to interring the honored dead in a sort of memorial garden, around Dumbledore's tomb. Objections?"

There were none.

"Lovely," Hermione sniffed. "That way, no one will forget what happened here."

"We also need to start interviewing students who attended here last term, under the Carrows and Snape," Harry continued. "Atrocities were committed, you know. Someone's going to pay for that."

"Of course there were," Madame Bones agreed, "But wouldn't it be best to let the kids come forward of their own volition?"

"No," Harry retorted, "Because they won't. Not with what was done to _some_ of them. Did any of you know that in addition to the Unforgivable Curses being taught, the beatings, the torture in detentions, that some of the students were molested by the so-called security men?"

They all gasped.

"I can name you one that's already confided in me," Harry said, "And he's terrified. He's humiliated, not to mention being in need of counseling."

"Did you say 'he'?" Kingsley exclaimed.

"HE," Harry confirmed. "Some of the Death Eaters _like_ little boys."

"By molestation, do you mean 'sexual'?" McGonagall gasped, her hand at her bodice in shock.

"To talk dirty, I mean repeatedly fucked up the arse," Harry blurted it out unapologetically, "And I'm sure he's not the only one. Ginny told me that Madame Pomfrey had taught contraception charms, just in case. Neville and Seamus, and I'd suspect any other DA members who survived this year, can point out others, too."

Ron's face went red and his fists clenched.

"Can this boy name names?" One of the Board demanded, looking shocked.

"Jugson, for one," Harry replied. "I won't tell you who the victim is, but I think I can get him to come forward. If he does, others are sure to follow. We'll need counselors to deal with this."

"I'd suggest that Madame Pomfrey turn over any knowledge of treatments she's had to administer," Hermione blushed furiously. "An abused child usually doesn't talk, for fear of reprisal. God only knows what they threatened them with. We'll need any physical proof on record."

"Azkaban's sure to fill up fast," Ron said.

"That's another thing," Hermione put in, "The prison system you have in place isn't much better than a death sentence. You don't rehabilitate even the _pettiest _criminals – you torture and eventually kill them. Using Dementors is just...sick!"

"Although I can think of a few likely candidates," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Suggestions?" Kingsley asked.

"Round them up and get them under control," Harry answered, "If not destroy some of them to make a point. Without the Death Eaters in control of them, they're sure to start running amok. Something also needs to be done about the Goblins. My recent dealings with Griphook taught me that."

"They're pretty angry with you over what you did to Gringotts," McGonagall said, but she sounded proud.

"Yes," Kingsley agreed, pulling out a warrant, "They're suing you for damages!"

"They can get over it, or I'll _deal_ with it," Harry growled. "Also, I'd suggest you seize any assets that the convicted Death Eaters have there to help pay for the damages done to all of us. There's a bloody fortune down there in the LeStrange vault, I know. If the Goblins think _they're_ going to keep it, they can think again! And trust me," Harry almost felt as if he were listening to someone else launching this tirade, "The Goblins were just as good as in league with Voldemort, since they knew and did nothing. All they care about is their own skin. They've no business running our banking system. I'll be cleaning out my vault there as soon as I can."

"Yeah, Griphook just left us down there to die," Ron reminded them. "Once he got what he wanted!"

"And what if you start another Goblin Rebellion?" Bones asked.

"Then I'll _end_ it!" Harry said darkly.

"You're talking about a massive overhaul of our society!" One of the Governors protested, another man that Harry hadn't gotten his name.

"It needs it," Hermione snapped at him. "I'm amazed it's lasted this long! Frankly, I'm not surprised that the likes of Grindelwald or Voldemort pop up from time to time!"

"That's out of our league," Madame Bones said. "Our primary concern is the school."

"It's my problem now," Kingsley nodded. "Anything else?" He sighed.

"We need to talk about Slytherin House, speaking of Hogwarts," Harry nodded, "And getting a new Potions Master. Horace Slughorn's quit, you know."

"What that House did..." Madame Bones began...

"_What_ they did, they probably felt they _had_ to do," Harry cut across her. "Did you know, right now, Percy tells me, that about half of that House are orphans? The homeless shelter in the village is filling up fast, Madame, and I doubt anyone will _want_ those kids. I'm not defending what some of them might have done, but I _am_ defending the children! Did you know that Aberforth suggested holding them as hostages? Did you know that they were locked up in their House down there, and left without food or care for over a day, after the battle here?"

"Are you suggesting that we try to _keep_ that House going?" Kingsley cut in, "Because I don't think you're going to find _anyone_ to Head it, or find very many new students sorting into it?"

"Need I remind you that Horace Slughorn, Andromeda Tonks, and Severus Snape were of Slytherin House?" Harry replied. "So was Regulus Black, who was working to undo Voldemort's plans from within. You can't brand all of them as Dark Wizards, and let me tell you this, there's things about Snape that you don't know!"

"_This_ should be interesting to hear, Potter," McGonagall mused. "Since he betrayed us!"

"He didn't," Harry said flatly, "It was all part of the plan." Everyone looked shocked. "When I get time, I'll write up a report about it. In the meantime?"

"I doubt many of the Slytherins will come back, Minister. Some of them, like the Avery boy, may be too traumatized," Hermione added. "It's only natural for them to be held responsible, to be blamed by the others. But they're just as much in need of help as the other three Houses are!"

"Many of them were willing participants in the, ah, curriculum," McGonagall informed them.

"But not all of them, surely?" Harry asked.

"You're talking about interviewing each student, then?" Another Governor asked.

"I think you have to," Ron nodded. "And take into account what other students have to say about them. Some of them might not be so clear-cut as like, Goyle? You can't just take every kid here that had DADA with the Carrows and charge them with using Unforgivables – they were _all _forced to do it!"

"But at least give them the _chance_ to defend themselves," Harry agreed, "Given the consequences, what might _we_ have done in their situation? If it came down to 'him or me', you know which you'd choose. Don't deny it!"

"Would _you_ just like to have my job now?" Kingsley tried to joke.

"I don't have the time, I have things to do," Harry retorted. "Maybe later?"

No one saw the humor in it.

"You know, Potter, in case you and your friends don't realize it, you three are hardly more than dropout students, with no real official standing in government," one of the men confronted him. "You may think you've got some great ideas here, but it's going to take time, and meet with a lot of resistance, implementing your grand plans! _Who _do you _think_ you are, to waltz in and just change everything in our world? You think just because you ended HIM, that everyone will just blindly follow along with you?"

"Harper, you are out of order," Kingsley cut in.

"He _is_ the one who ended Voldemort!" Ron reminded them.

"You're welcome," Harry said dryly, his glare deadly.

"No, THEY'RE out of order!" Harper retorted. "I'll have you know, most of my family has been, or are, Slytherins! _I_ represent Ravenclaw, because some of us from these old families aren't like your cliched stereotypes! You also need to know that I have a nephew in Slytherin! He'll be a Second Year this fall! And for your information, he wrote home and said the Sorting Hat initially wanted to put him in Hufflepuff!"

"But he asked for Slytherin, didn't he?" Ron guessed, "So he'd have an easier time of it? Family thought Voldemort was going to win, didn't they? Coached him, warned him?"

"We _weren't_ aligned with HIM!" Harper snapped.

"So he's a Hufflepuff-wannabe who's guilty by association, then?" Hermione pointed out. "Do we interview him, or convict him based on House?"

"We're NOT..."

"No one said you _were_!" Ron cut across him, "We're trying to save the KID! Look at _my_ family! We're one of the oldest, and look at how we've been treated for being so progressive and curious? Hermione's right, this system _sucks_! If you don't _want_ to see it changed, then? That tells me that _you're_ part of the problem!"

"It's _got _to change," Harry reminded them.

"I think we've got enough to think about," Kingsley interrupted. "Anything else?"

"I'll discuss the rest with you in private, Minister," Harry said bluntly, "But for now, I've got something to do. I'm just not sure what it is, yet." He turned back to Harper. "How _is_ your nephew, by the way? Have you talked to him lately?"

"Is that a threat, Potter?" Harper asked coldly.

"No, I'm merely concerned for his welfare. In fact, I'm going to Hospital to visit Avery soon. In case you didn't know, he's your nephew's roommate who's catatonic? I guess the Carrows worked _him_ over just as good as they did some of the other non-Slytherin kids. That, or being dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to find himself in the middle of a battle, and taken as a prison of war, did him in! _Excuse_ me!"

And with that, Harry left.

On his way out, he slammed the doors.

One of them fell off the hinges.

Arriving in hospital, the first person Harry saw was Dean Thomas. He was seated next to Justin's bed, holding his hand, just staring at him. But it was the look on his face that stopped Harry.

"Dean, what is it?" Harry asked.

Dean had obviously been crying. "He...he burst an aneurysm last night. Madame P's done all she can, and a specialist from St. Mungo's just left. There's bleeding on the brain and swelling. It's not a matter of when he wakes up now – it's IF!"

Harry clasped his shoulder, and Dean took his hand. As he stood there, wondering, he remembered Justin Finch-Fletchley:

_It's the fastest model yet!  
Hufflepuff!  
My name was down for Eton, you know...can't tell you how glad I am I came here!  
I'm sorry I didn't believe you, Harry._

"How's Avery?" Harry then asked a passing nurse.

"No change," she replied, as Harry went to his bedside. Madame Pomfrey had learned a few Muggle practices over the years, and there was IV in the boy's arm and a thin tube in his nose.

_How long would it take him to die, without this care? Maybe he'd be better off?_

Harry sat there through lunch, holding the little boy's hand, until the urge to move on became overpowering. When the nurse came to check him, Harry saw that Avery's pupils reacted to light, but that was all. Harry got up to go.

"Dean, take a walk with me," Harry then said, offering his hand.

Dean leaned over and kissed Justin's cheek. "I'll be back," He promised him. Then he looked sharply at Harry.

"It doesn't bother me," Harry assured him. "Everyone needs someone."

"You just get used to it," Dean sighed, "Back home, some didn't like Blacks. I come here, and I find out some don't like Muggleborns, like me. Then add to that, I'm gay." He sighed again. "Guess people are the same everywhere you go."

"I'm still trying to wrap my head around Seamus and his 'fence-jumping'," Harry joked, and they both had to laugh.

"He's pretty good, for an Irish boy," Dean joked.

"_Racism, _Dean?" Harry feigned shock. "So, where was Justin, if not here on September 1?"

"Justin came back to fight early, you know, Ernie told me," Dean said, as they headed toward Hagrid's damaged cabin, "Ernie's family was hiding him, and a few other Muggleborns. But when the DA coins lit up more and more often, he came back. He couldn't stand to hide while they were here," He bit back another wave of tears. "I want to _know_, Harry! I want to know _who_ did this to him!"

"So you can do what?" Harry asked, but already knowing the answer. It was the thought that preoccupied his mind these days.

"So I can make them _pay_!" Dean snarled, as they walked on.

"The perfect Hufflepuff," Harry nodded. "If there's one thing I've learned, Dean, it's that love can do some pretty strange things when combined with magic. Follow your heart on this one."

Dean just nodded. "Harry, _where_ are we going?" He asked after a while.

"I don't know," Harry replied, as they skirted the forest. "You know, somewhere around here, was where I walked in to confront Voldemort."

"Is it true, what they said? That you had a piece of _him_ inside you?" Dean wondered.

"Right here," Harry pointed to his scar, still acclimating to the idea of it never hurting since Voldemort's death. "Not sure how that one got out, though."

"If it's a secret, everyone knows," Dean grinned.

"Probably right," Harry had to agree.

"I'm glad it's over," Dean said, "And I'm glad...glad they're gone. The...the Slytherins, that is. I know it's wrong, Harry, I know the kids didn't do it. Well, not all of them did _it_, but I still can't … forgive them. Not after seeing Neville and Seamus and Ernie, hearing what they said about this last year, and _them_, day in and day out. Not after Justin."

"I think Avery's been punished enough," Harry mused.

"He was no angle, I heard."

"Probably not," Harry had to agree. "But he's only eleven. He was just a scared kid, Dean."

"I dunno if that excuses him," Dean shook his head.

They walked on for a while, until they came upon small clearing. Dean nearly screamed and jumped back at the sight of a mother Thestral and her colt. "What the fuck is _that _thing?" Harry explained it to him, flicking his wand to summon a chunk of meat from the kitchens. He wondered if he'd frightened the Elves as he fed the creatures.

"These...pull the carriages?" Dean managed. "How come I never _saw_ them before?"

"Because up until now, you'd not seen _death_," Harry replied, with the young Thestral nuzzling his pockets. "All gone, buddy," he told it, petting its head. "They're really very misunderstood creatures. Gentle, intelligent, loving. Hagrid told me if it weren't for this forest, they'd have been eradicated by now. People think they're bad luck."

As they headed back, the Thestrals followed them. They dropped them off at Hagrid's, who was delighted to see them. "Coming up for dinner, Hagrid?" Harry asked.

"Nah, be dinin' alone tonight, things ter do," Hagrid sighed. "Got a notice today that tha bloody Ministry's lookin' inter what the spiders did in the war. Like it were _their_ fault!" Hagrid wailed.

"HAGRID!" Harry gasped, "In case you didn't notice, without Aragog, they can't exactly be _trusted_! Hell,_ Aragog_ wanted to eat me and Ron five years ago!"

"Someone named Rolf Scamander wants ter relocate 'em. Says they're an invasive species," Hagrid lamented, as if he hadn't heard a word.

"Good," Dean whispered to Harry, as they headed back to the castle.

"I can't say that I'll miss 'em," Harry had to agree.

"Potter, a word?" McGonagall asked, as she caught them near the front doors. "Some of us are getting a bit...how shall I say it? _Totally freaked out_ over HIS body still being here!"

"I'll get rid of it tonight, Professor," Harry replied, "After dinner."

"Very good," she nodded to them.

They had a very hearty stew with fresh hot rolls and butter that evening, and Harry found himself surrounded by students that he didn't know. Technically, it wasn't time for school to be out, and some of the younger children who were trying to help were also carrying on with the Professors in pseudo-classes. Ron rolled his eyes and scooted over to allow Dennis to sit by Harry, who was slowly becoming unnerved by the adoring stare of a couple of very small boys across the table.

"Were _we_ ever that little?" Neville asked.

"No," Harry answered.

"And you are...?" Ron asked them.

"Tommy Greene," the boy with curly strawberry blond hair said.  
"Clay Humphries," the boy with glasses and straight brown hair said.

"Nice to meet you," Harry offered.

"Harry, why don't you just open up a home for wayward kids?" Seamus laughed, "They all seem to gravitate to you!"

As if on queue, Mrs. Tonks placed a covered basket on Harry's lap. "Tonight's your first night, Godfather!" She slapped his back.

"**Why**!? Where are _you _going?" Harry demanded.

"To see Cissy, if you _must_ know," Andromeda smiled. "He'll need a new nappie at bedtime, and he'll wake up to eat around two. Change him again. Make sure the formula is warm, and don't forget to burp him. He'll go back to sleep around three, and be careful, he's sprouting incisors already!"

The boys were fascinated by the baby.

"Will you ask them, for me?" Harry asked, and Andromeda nodded.

Ron looked terrified. Ginny picked up Teddy, the look on her face as nearly unnerving to Ron as the boys' were to Harry.

Teddy's nappie made an indelicate sound. Everyone froze. "Not at the bloody table!" Ron exclaimed, as Ginny looked in it.

"It's just gas!" She rolled her eyes, "Look!"

"I'm not _lookin_' in there!" Ron almost shrieked.

"It's just a baby, sir," Greene offered timidly.

"What _is_ it with the 'sir' thing?" Harry wondered again.

"Training," Seamus explained. "Thank the Carrows for it. A few bone-breaking hexes to the fingers, and the kids learn fast to be polite."

"Oh. Ginny, can you watch Teddy until I get back? I have some ..._things_ to dispose of tonight?" Harry asked.

Hermione glared at him. "Such _as?_"

"Such as, I can handle it _alone_!" Harry replied curtly.

"You sure?" Dean asked, winking at him.

"Positive," Harry agreed.

Greene held up his hand. Everyone gave him a look. Harry nodded at him.

"Sir, is it true you're gonna teach DADA next year?" The boy asked excitedly.

"Are you gonna teach us to _fight_?" Humphries added.

"Word travels fast," Hermione shook her head. "This is a disaster in the making, if you ask me!"

"Yes," Harry smiled, "And we'll write nice, long reports, too!" He nudged Hermione, "And we'll visit Madame Pomfrey a lot, probably!"

"Cool!" The boys laughed.

They laughed.

And they didn't say 'sir'.

"I like the bit about reports," Hermione acquiesced.

Later that night, the seal to the alcove that hid the Dark Lord's and Nagini's remains* was blasted open. The body floated out and towards the front doors, which opened at his approach. Coming around a corner, Mr. Filch screamed. "WHAT IN HELL?!" He shouted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Filch!" Harry offered, pulling off his Invisibility Cloak, "I was just...ah, taking out the rubbish!"

"Eh, well warn me, why don't you?" Filch complained. "Crazy, guarding this _thing_. Who the hell'd wanna steal it?!"

"Sorry!" Harry went back to his work, adjusting his cloak. "You never know, Mr. Filch. Some lunatic might want to take part of the snake and try to stick it in a wand core, or something."

"You had that cloak all along, didn't you, Potter?" Filch asked. "No wonder you got past me so often!" He had to laugh. "Where'd you get it?"

"Dumbledore," Harry replied. "For Christmas, First Year." After all, it wasn't a lie.

"Isn't that a kick?" Filch snorted.

"Yes, sir."

"Potter?" Filch then asked, as Voldemort's corpse floated in the doorway like some ghoulish Halloween decoration, "I'm sorry. Thank you."

"For what?"

"_That_," Filch replied, pointing at the corpse, then looking away with a shiver. "You can't _imagine_, Potter. I used to joke about it, you know. Remember when I wanted to hang you lot up by your thumbs in the dungeon fer sneakin' out in yer First Year?"

"Yes, sir?"

"They _done_ it, them Carrows. An' worse," Filch shook his head, looking down at the floor. "I was jokin' when I said I miss the screamin'. They never done that, ya know. I was tryin' ter scare yehs."

"It worked, sir," Harry smiled.

"Ah, don't deserve to be called 'sir'. Not like _I _was any good in the fight," Filch sighed, and Harry noticed something.

"Argus," he tried the name, and the old man didn't seem to mind, "Where's Mrs. Norris?"

"Gone," Filch said very softly. "Found her in the rubble," he sniffled.

"I'm so sorry," Harry offered, and he genuinely was. Again, he thought of Hedwig. "She deserved better," Harry said lamely, even though he'd hated that damn cat when he'd been a student! He could see how heartbroken Filch was, and his own emotions confused him. He wasn't particularly fond of Filch, either, but he seemed different now. "I lost Hedwig the first night on the run."

"She were a pretty bird," Filch agreed. "I went along with 'em, you know," Filch then confessed. "Bein' a bloody Squib, what was _I_ ter do? Still, they needed someone ter do the dirty work, I suppose. I used to sneak down to the dungeons, you know, when I couldn't take the cryin' no more. Found an old key what fit the iron maidens, yeh know." He paused, and Harry wondered at the change in the bitter old man. "Harry," Filch then asked, "Do you think I could bury Mrs. Norris in the Memorial Garden?"

He was shocked to see him so emotional, and surprised to be having this conversation with him. Perhaps the war had changed them all, then?

"I think that'd be perfect...Argus," he offered his hand.

Filch took it.

"Do you remember the time someone hexed your mop bucket to erupt like a volcano?" Harry asked, and Filch nodded. "It was Nott and Moon!" Harry blurted.

Mr. Filch smiled. Then he pulled a face. "All right, all right, now get that mangy thing outta here!" He pointed at Voldemort's corpse and spat. Then he pulled out a rag and wiped it up. Given the state of the castle, it was almost funny.

"Argus?"

"Yes?"

"Take it easy on the younger kids. They need all the friends they can get now."

"Aye," Filch nodded, turning to go.

Harry then floated the bodies of Voldemort and Nagini out past the front gates, which still were off the hinges, and apparated away with them.

The mountaintop was lit by a half moon when they arrived, the dead bodies falling unceremoniously to the ground with a dull THUNK! Harry got his bearings, then kicked Nagini's severed head like a football. It rolled, coming to rest against the trunk of a large pine tree.

Suddenly, it all came back to him: being locked in the cupboard, having nothing while Dudley had everything, being 'Harry hunted' and beaten up all the time, and all of the things he been wrongly accused of in his Hogwarts career. Rage bubbled up inside of him, and as he reached into his breast pocket for his wand, his hand closed upon the Elder.

A tingle ran up his arm, and in the dim light, Harry was unaware that he'd grabbed _it_. He'd thought he'd hidden it in his room, and as he raised his fist to the sky, he screamed.

Images flashed in his mind's eye: green light, a man in black, Professor Quirrel, the Basilisk and Tom Riddle, Dementors, a dragon, Sirius falling through the Veil, Dumbledore falling from the Astronomy Tower, and finally, bits and snatches of the Battle.

Before him, dead on the ground, lay the cause of all his suffering.

His foot lashed out, and Harry heard ribs break as he kicked the corpse of Voldemort. Again and again he kicked him, unaware of the screaming profanities coming from his own mouth.

"For Mum!"  
KICK  
"For Dad!"  
KICK  
"For Sirius!"  
KICK  
"For Remus!"  
KICK

He went on and on.

"Think you'll live _forever_, do YOU, **bitch**?!" He spat, "Murdering, lying, EVIL bastard!" He drove his foot into Voldemort's face, snapping his neck in the sideways kick. "Get up!" He went on, "GET UP!" He kicked him yet again, filled with satisfaction as even more bones broke. Dead, thick blood oozed slowly from the wounds, but Voldemort's sightless eyes simply stared up.

It was not enough that he was dead.  
It was not enough that those fragmented parts of his Soul were suffering beyond imagination in the Afterlife he'd seen.

"Something beyond both our help," Dumbledore had said.

"Be glad I can't pursue you there, or I'd hunt down what's left of your ruined Soul and destroy it!" Harry growled.

Still, it was not enough.

It would _never_ be enough.

He spat on the corpse.

"Thought you were the greatest wizard of all time, huh? DID YOU?! Well who's laughing _now?_ You and Bellatrix laughing it up in HELL?!" He screamed madly.

Then Harry began to laugh: cold, hysterical laughter that would have frightened anyone listening.

Harry raised the Elder Wand.

_Someone is going to pay!_

A bolt of white light tore upwards into the sky, and thunder crashed as the seared air rammed back together in its wake. Eyes wide and throat filled with an inhuman sound, Harry slashed the Elder Wand downward, the light bending like a whip made of lightning.

Voldemort's smashed head rolled, separated from his lifeless and broken body, just as Neville had decapitated Nagini.

But it was _still_ not enough.

With a flick of the Elder Wand, both bodies and their respective severed heads rose into the air. He didn't say the words; he didn't need to. His thoughts alone powered the wand, connecting with it, as the Elder Wand fully connected with the rightful Master whom it had refused to harm. The Master whom _it_ had chosen.

_You talk about wands, as if they have feelings? Can **think**?_

_The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter!_

Harry Potter had committed his first act with the Elder Wand.

Beneath his feet, the ground shuddered.

As the bodies rose into the night sky, they erupted into flames. Floating out over the deep ravine, they burned in the sky like some obscene fireworks, rising higher and higher.

The sight reminded him of the shields falling at Hogwarts some nights before, like burning leaves carried off on the breeze.

A thought came to Harry's mind, his hand tensed, and then the burning bodies exploded into flaming dust that was blown away on the night wind.

Silence returned to the land.

It was as if Voldemort had never existed, he could almost imagine.

Harry Potter considered it for a moment, then sank to his knees.

Again, he wept.

Bitterly.

It just wasn't enough...

For how long he knelt on the mountaintop, panting and exhausted, yet somehow exhilarated, Harry did not know. The moon had moved farther west, he saw. He was never much of one for Astronomy, having never been able to understand how he would possibly use it in his life. To Harry, it was a wasted class. Certainly the Muggles, with their science and technology, knew far more about the Universe than Wizards ever would. He wondered if Professor Sinistra knew that Jupiter had over 50 confirmed moons?

He saw a particularly bright star, and stared at it for a bit. There was a chill to the night breeze for May, and he pulled his cloak a bit tighter. He sat there, resting, eventually lowering his head to stare at the wand that still tingled in his hand.

"Shite," he mumbled.

"Jupiter," A voice said from the darkness.

"Bane," Harry replied.

"We wondered if you were all right," Bane said.

"Sorry for the noise," Harry offered, "Thanks for the help the other night." He remembered that the Centaurs weren't all that sociable, especially with humans.

"The Dark Lord would have exterminated us too, we finally realized," Bane explained. "What of the others?"

Harry grinned in the darkness. "They'll get theirs, Bane," he answered, thinking of Dolores Umbridge and she'd offended them. "Firenze is recovering," Harry then added.

"That is good to know," Bane agreed, "Although his beliefs are...heretical?"

Harry shrugged. "You sound like the Ministry now."

"There's no need to insult me," Bane snorted.

Harry had to laugh. "My apologies. Change comes slowly, I suppose."

"Perhaps. Even the stars change, as the Equinoxes proceed," Bane answered cryptically. "But they return in so many cycles. Jupiter is the biggest, but not the brightest. Right now, Venus is nearly conjoining. Seven degrees off? Mercury, too. And Saturn? Portentous, no?"

"Venus," Harry wondered, "Love?"

"Beauty," Bane replied. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, thanks. Regards to your tribe," Harry nodded.

Bane nodded back.

"I would thank you again," Harry repeated formally, "If you ever need us?"

"I doubt it," Bane shrugged, as he vanished back into the darkness. "Although you do seem to do... thorough … work, Harry Potter."

And then he was gone.

"It's a start," Harry muttered, remembering that Ginny was watching Teddy. He finally smiled, getting to his feet and starting back. He stowed the Elder Wand, instead lighting the holly wand to see by. "I should have kicked him again," Harry grumbled, still feeling unsatisfied and wanting.

When he felt he was far enough away from the site of the desecration, he turned on the spot and vanished.

If anyone had remained behind, they would have seen the puff of black smoke left in his wake.

**A/N's:** The books never addressed what was done with the remains of Voldemort and Nagini. The movie showing them vaporizing is conjectured. We know that Voldemort's body was put in an alcove, away from everything. That's all.

It was also never addressed as to what the students did once evacuated. Did they stay at the bar and party with the goat, or run off? Or were they contained and brought back?

We'll be using Book!Justin later, and not Movie!Justin.

Conjectural-OC Firsties:Avery, Harper, Rossier –Slytherin  
Greene & Humphries – Gryffindor

nightskyatlas dot com for verification  
Bane & Harry are talking just before sunrise.


	4. Chapter 4-Photographs

**Dark Mirror X**

**4**

**Photographs**

"_**I put your picture away, sat down and cried today."-©Kid Rock**_

"Facial hair?" Ron wondered, "Harry, you look ridiculous. Shave the rest off."

"I think I like it," Harry replied, studying his short whiskers in the bathroom mirror, "Makes me look older."

"Makes you look like a creeper," Seamus shuddered.

"A goatee just _isn't_ you," Neville agreed.

"It'll grow on you," Dean shrugged.

"So does a fungus," Ron snorted.

"HARRY?!" A woman's voice shouted down the corridor.

"I hate it, that they can get in here!" Neville sighed, "Sounds like Ginny?"

About then, Harry remembered that he'd left baby Teddy in her care that night. They hurriedly dressed and returned to their dormitory.

"Forget something?" Ginny said in a dangerous tone, Teddy in her arms, standing there with Hermione.

"I didn't want to wake you, I was late," Harry offered lamely.

"Just _where _did you go?" Hermione asked.

"I, erm, disposed of _his_ corpse," Harry answered. They all gaped at him. "I had to make sure there was nothing left, in case any rogue Death Eaters came sniffing around. That, and Nagini. It didn't concern you lot, OK? It was too dangerous to keep them here, or even bury them somewhere. So I got rid of them, all right?"

"How?" Hermione pressed him.

"Incinerated," Harry said truthfully, leaving out the rest.

Hermione seemed to be thinking about something. "Probably a good idea. I'd hate to think what might happen if some lunatic had gotten a hold of part of that snake and tried to use a scale in a potion, or a wand core! You see, the Sanskrit word 'naga', meaning snake..."

"Oh, _spare_ us," Ron interrupted her.

"Sorry, Ginny," Harry apologized, taking the baby from her. Teddy cooed at him, his hair turning from red to black. "I didn't want to wake you all."

"It's all right," Ginny kissed his cheek. "We'd have _both_ been cranky if you had! So what are we doing today? Teddy's got no shortage of potential babysitters, you know."

"Hope Hagrid ain't one of 'em," Ron mumbled to Harry.

"You lot go ahead," Harry sighed, sitting down on his bed. "I don't much feel like breakfast, or facing everyone out there who's trying to help with repairs."

"You'll probably want this, then," Neville said, as he tossed the Invisibility Cloak to him. "I wouldn't leave that hanging on the bedpost, you know!" He smiled, as they all headed for the door.

"Just give him some time to sort it all out," Harry could Hermione saying as they left.

Ginny was the last to go. She turned back to Harry, just peeking in the door. "You're sure you're all right?"

Harry nodded. "Just a bit rattled from last night's dirty work," he assured her.

Ginny checked the clock. "You know, we could get in a quick snog before breakfast, and the post owls arrive," she hinted.

"We _could_, you know!" Harry smiled, as she came back in and shut the door.

They were happily snogging away when a loud POP! frightened the both of them so badly that they nearly fell off the bed!

"Oh, Kreacher is sorry, sir," the blushing old Elf apologized, "Kreacher can comes back later!"

"Well," Ginny gasped, straightening her clothing and giving her hair a quick check. "I suppose I'd better head on down!"

"What is it, Kreacher?" Harry asked with a wry expression.

Kreacher handed him an envelope. "Miss Winky and the kitchen Elveses says some boy is leaving this for Harry Potter. Kreacher has checked it, sir, and it's safe. No curses!"

"It's very heavy for such a small envelope?" Harry wondered.

"Expansion Charm, we guesses," Kreacher shrugged. "Is Mas...Harry needing anything elses?"

"No, thank you. Why don't you go and see where they went with Teddy?" Harry suggested. Kreacher looked delighted and vanished.

Harry sat back down on his bed, staring at the wax seal on the envelope. The emblem of three interlocking C's was familiar, and the envelope could only have come from one person: Colin Creevey.

_What was his middle name? _Harry wondered.

There was a bit of parchment sticking up as he looked in it, and Harry pulled it out first. It was a letter addressed to him:

_**Dear Harry-  
I know I'll not be able to mail this, so I'm giving it to Winky to keep until you come back. I know you'll be back soon. None of us in the DA believe a word they're saying about you. I know you haven't abandoned us, or run off to save yourself. Gryffindors don't do things like that.  
I'm sorry I've been such a pest since meeting you. That's why I've tried to give you some space these past couple terms. I know I must have been a lot to put up with. I'm sorry.  
You can't imagine what it's like here this year, with the Carrows...**_

The main body of the letter, written in Colin's tiny, neat script, matched exactly what Neville and Seamus and the others had told him. He forced himself to read it, fighting down a lump in his throat.

Still, his eyes lingered on some of the worse descriptions.

_**We've pinched some items to make PolyJuice Potion with. I can't understand why Professor Snape or Professor Slughorn doesn't yell about it, stuff missing, that is, but they don't. I know they know it's us. I can't believe Slughorn taught us how to make it, either! But we've done Draught of Living Death, and some other nasty ones, too. The Carrows like that idea.  
Professor Slughorn has also taught us to make different salves and lotions, too, for first aid. Good thing for us, since even answering a question wrong in class gets you a beating. I've hidden a stash of PJP under my bed, I figure there's enough of it to last until May. We've been stealing hair out of the younger kids' combs at night. That way we can take their place if the detentions are too much for them. Professor Slughorn says if you cut the Mandrake and water mix down 50%, the potion can last twice as long; tastes twice as bad, too.  
It works, if you ever need it.  
They were going to hang Dennis by his ankles all night for refusing to Cruciate Malcolm Baddock for helping that Tucker kid in Hufflepuff with his homework.  
I took his place.  
Professor Snape knew I did it, though, I guess. He let me down after a couple hours, when they'd all gone to bed. It was his night to patrol. He did some healing Charms, and took me to the kitchen to sleep it off. Winky hid me in an oven.  
Funny, huh?**_

"Only you, Colin," Harry had to smile, picturing the amusing scene in his mind. It wasn't really funny, but somehow, it was.

_**I can't tell anyone this, Harry, because he's put a Confidentiality Curse on me, but he's given me permission to write it. He wants you to know it, someday. I've been doing a lot of pictures for him, copying and restoring them. It's some lady that looks like she might be a Weasley, but she's got no freckles and has your eyes. He calls her 'Lily'. He even pays me to do the work. I feel safe with him.  
Enclosed, you'll find copies of stuff that Professor Snape wanted you to have. I've made you copies of all the pictures I took of you, and Hogwarts, and an enlargement of the one of me, you, and Dennis. I'm sorry I bugged you so much for that one.  
It's our favorite image. Thanks for letting us do it.  
I hope you like them.  
I think you'll find the rest useful, too, when you win this war. You'll need evidence, Professor Snape says. Here it is. My negatives are hidden under my bed, too.  
Maybe I should have gone into hiding with my folks, but I think we can make a difference here. You taught us that.  
I don't know if I'll ever see you again, but in case I don't – since I really don't expect to survive this year – will you do something for me?  
If my parents don't come back, and I don't survive, will you take care of Dennis?  
He'll have no one else.  
I don't know who these 'Reeves' people are that Professor Snape says are my Magical ancestors; never heard of them? I know I'm Muggleborn, but he swears I'm not?  
I have to go now, and hide this letter. Someone's coming.  
Will add a PS later if I can.**_

_**Love,  
your friend,  
Colin Carl Creevey**_

"Carl," Harry whispered, "It was Carl." He then raised the heavy envelope, ripped it, and thousands of 4x6" color photos came pouring out onto his bed. Shocked at how much time it must have taken to print them all, without an automated Muggle machine to do it, Harry saw an 8x10" print fall out last. Just as Colin had written, it was a print of himself between the Creevey brothers. Photo!Harry looked annoyed, with a fake smile, while the two smaller boys were ecstatic.

"He used the self-timer," Harry recalled, running a hand over the pile of pictures. Everyone was there. It seemed that no one had escaped Colin's camera over the years. But as he picked up an image of the Common Room, a wide shot filled with students after a Quidditch victory, he noticed something: every person in the image was weeping. He didn't recall that ever happening. No one had ever seen him cry before, but as he picked up his formal portrait from the Second Year's Quidditch team, he saw himself, head bowed, crying.

Every single subject of every one of Colin's photos must have known that their Creator was now gone.

And the portraits wept.

_**He calls her 'Lily'.  
I feel safe with him.  
We've been stealing hair from their combs...  
...refusing to Cruciate Baddock...**_

"Colin, you _brave_ young man," Harry whispered in awe, as his own image, still in his hand looked up, wiped his face and then resumed a normal expression.

Harry's eyes moved back to the beginning of the letter: _**I'm sorry I've been such a pest since meeting you.**_ He reread the ending: _**Love.**_

And Harry found himself thinking that right then, he'd give up anything he had for just a few minutes with Colin – to thank him.

Yet he did not cry.  
Not this time.

Oddly, however, he felt as if he wanted to – but could not. It was as if his tears had all turned to dust, and in that instant, he was finished with crying.

He felt something within himself again, and as he rose from the bed, a cold determination came over him: Colin's sacrifices and heroics would not be unknown. He would not have died in vain. He would make damn sure of that.

And he would make sure that Colin Creevey knew it.

With a flick of his wand, he put the pictures away.

Changing out of his good robes and into clothing and boots suited for travel, Harry grabbed up the Elder Wand and vanished beneath his Invisibility Cloak.

No way was he trying to navigate the tent city on the lawn without it!

He was glad that he'd stopped in the kitchen to have Kreacher pack him a small lunch, because he'd been hiking around all morning, looking for something, with no luck. He knew the place. It would be just inside the Forbidden Forest, where Seamus, Luna, and Ernie had cast their Patronuses when Harry had felt that all hope was lost. And while he could see the trampled underbrush and snapped saplings where the troupe of Death Eaters had come through, with Hagrid carrying him, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

As he sat down on a fallen log to eat his sandwich (another huge creation complete with olives on toothpicks), he saw the mushrooms growing off of the back of it. "Pluteus cervinus, the deer mushroom," Harry mumbled, actually hoping that he'd never see another mushroom as long as he lived. After eating so many of them while on the run in the Forest of Dean, mushrooms had lost all appeal – on a pizza or not!

Putting the cloak aside, as he didn't want to dribble mustard on it, Harry suddenly had an idea. He finished his sandwich and threw the cloak back on, raising the Elder Wand. "If I am the Master, and I have two of them, I should be able to find the third," he reasoned, staring at the Wand, communing with it.

It was warm in his hand.

Fixing the image of the Resurrection Stone firmly in his mind, he said, "Point me!"

The Elder Wand twitched in his hand, moving a bit, and Harry walked that way. It had been dark the only time he'd been here, so nothing looked familiar in the daylight. That, and he'd been playing dead on the way out. He hadn't been able to watch where they'd been going. Still, it was almost as if he could feel it. He closed his eyes and walked, following the Wand's pull. _I was ready to die, but he wasn't_, Harry thought.

On impulse, as the Wand began to vibrate in his hand, Harry said, "Accio, Resurrection Stone!"

He opened eyes, feeling the power surging out of the Wand.

Before him floated the black stone that he'd first seen in the vision of Marvolo Gaunt's ring.

And reaching out his hand to grasp it, as the cloak slid from his shoulders, Harry thought only of the one he most needed to see.

More substantial than a Ghost, but not looking quite human, a young man appeared. He seemed to be made up of faded colors, Harry thought, like an old photograph that had been brought to life in bad chemicals. His sincere and smiling face, pale beneath a mop of mouse-brown hair, looked somewhat confused.

Harry tightened his grip on the Elder Wand, and Colin Creevey increased in saturation and density. As the young man shifted his feet, dead leaves crackled and a twig snapped. Harry recalled the only time he'd used the Stone – his parents, Sirius and Lupin, and had also made noise as they'd moved. That's how he'd known they were there. Madly, he realized that he'd not tried to touch them, nor they him.

Colin was taller than Harry remembered him.

"What am I doing in the forest?" Colin asked. Then he saw Harry, shouting his name and running towards him. He stumbled over a small rock, and Harry had to laugh as he caught him in his arms.

He'd caught him.

Colin was in a physical form.

For a long while, they embraced. The happiness radiating off Colin was almost a tangible thing, and Colin could feel Harry trembling. When they finally released, holding one another at arm's length, Colin's face fell.

"H-Harry, how? I...I died, I think?" Colin wondered.

Harry nodded.

"I...I was in this odd place? It was a train station, I wonder?" Colin breathed, and suddenly, he was off to the races, chattering away as if nothing at all were amiss. "I saw Professor Lupin, Harry! And Professors Dumbledore and Snape! And Fred, and a House Elf? All sorts of people, Harry! They all wanted to get on a train, but I thought we should wait!" He paused. "Sorry, I'm doing it again. I know it bugs you, Harry."

"No, Colin, it's fine," Harry smiled at him. "I got your letter. Thank you."

Colin blushed a bit, looking all around. "Harry, how can I be here?" He asked. "This feels...wrong?" Then he froze, as if finally realizing something of great import. "YOU WON!" He shouted, "Harry, you did it! You won!"

"I did," Harry smiled back at him, although it was almost beginning to feel as if he'd lost.

"How did I get _here_, then?" Colin asked again.

"Let me tell you a story about three brothers, Colin," Harry began, "I think you'll like it."

And so Harry told him the story, sitting beside him on a fallen log, holding his hand, and never taking his eyes off of the young man. When he was finished, he invited the awed Colin to tell him _his_ story.

The sun was riding lower in the west when Colin finished, and he was looking tired. Harry didn't ever recall Colin being tired, though. But his tale of horror of the past term at Hogwarts, Harry thought, was enough to tire anyone. He himself didn't feel so good when it was done.

Still, he did not cry.

"Colin, who killed you?" Harry finally had to ask, that familiar sensation rising up within him again.

"Some man, a Death Eater, I think. He was quite...beastly?" Colin said. "He had very big teeth, Harry, but he looked like he might have been handsome, if he'd cleaned up a bit? He smelled...like a wet dog? And he had yellow eyes, too? Isn't that odd? And shaggy hair, too!" Colin shuddered. "His fingernails were almost like claws, and he had hairy hands."

"Fenrir Greyback," Harry muttered. "Thank you, Colin."

"Harry, have you heard from my parents? This funny little man in a purple robe, Mr. Diggle, I think? He said he was in charge of hiding Muggleborn families? My parents were going south, Penzance, maybe Falmouth, I think? Funny, I didn't remember that until just now? You think they might have blocked that memory, to protect them, if I was captured?" Colin gasped.

"I think so," Harry nodded. "Colin, did you see your parents there, where you were?"

"No," Colin said firmly, "But there had to be about a hundred people there I didn't know!"

"That's good," Harry agreed, "I'd say they're still alive, then."

"Harry, my letter...?" Colin paused, blushing. "And Dennis?"

"Dennis is fine. He will want for nothing, ever," Harry promised him. "I swear to you. If anything happens to your parents, I _will_ take him in."

"Make them _pay,_ Harry," Colin whispered, "Promise me you'll _punish _them for what they did to us? To Dennis?"

In all the time he'd known Colin, Harry couldn't recall a single time he'd wished anything bad on anyone. He was … had been … that kind of a boy.

Harry could only nod. "The evidence you've left me will be enough to convict them, Colin. They won't hurt anyone, _ever_ again."

"Dementors?" Colin asked hopefully, surprising Harry that he would even _think_ of such a thing. Then again, Harry was surprising himself a great deal of late, too.

"Maybe worse," Harry humored him.

Somewhere behind them, a twig snapped.

Both of them looked up quickly to see a small boy in a scarlet Gryffindor hoodie standing there in the path, wand in hand. His mouth was open, his eyes wide, and he appeared frozen.

Then he screamed: "COLIN!"

Dennis Creevey must have wandered off, Harry realized, seen a path in the forest, and followed it.

They were running at one another, Harry saw, and he tightened his grip on the Stone. He was tiring, but he knew if he dropped it, that Colin would vanish. That, Harry knew, would absolutely shatter Dennis. A terrible picture of him lying next to Avery in hospital, in the same catatonic condition, rose in his mind. He could not permit that.

Harry turned his back as the Creevey brothers embraced, just catching a glimpse of Colin kissing his little brother. He heard crying, but he was unable to join with them in it. Still. Then Colin was scolding his little brother for wandering off, congratulating him for his bravery, and encouraging him to carry on.

He was giving him hope.

Harry gave them their privacy.  
He gave them their last, special moment together.

The setting sun was casting lengthening shadows all around, and the gloom of the forest was creeping in when Harry felt a hand on his shoulder. It was neither cold nor warm; it was simply there as he reached up to lay his own hand over it.

Colin.

"Harry, I have to go now. I can't stay here," Colin whispered to him.

"And Dennis?" Harry just managed, holding tight to his hand, and wishing that he could somehow pull him back through the Doors of Death.

"He understands," Colin sighed. "He'll cry, I'm sure, but I think it was good that he came. You gave us the chance to say goodbye properly. Thank you."

They looked up to see Dennis standing there, his back to them, kicking at the dirt of the path, and getting his good trainers all scuffed. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his face tear stained. Colin went to him one last time.

"It's just like that TV show we like, Denny, you know, the space station one?" Colin reminded him, taking him in his arms one last time. "Like the Prophets say, Denny, 'It's not linear'.* I'll always be there, waiting, watching. I love you," Colin reminded him again.

"I love you, too," Dennis hugged him one last time. Then he looked up and nodded at Harry. Colin must have told him.

Harry put the Stone in his pocket.

Colin vanished.

Dennis stared at him, but there was no accusation in his brown eyes. In fact, there was a sparkle there that had been absent since Harry had first seen him after the Battle. Then he walked up to Harry, hugged him, and whispered, "I love you, Harry. Thank you."

"Dennis, I can't do it again, you know," Harry informed him, not sure if it were true or not. He thought it might be more damaging to the boy if he did.

"Colin told me," Dennis sighed, "It's all right, Harry. I get it. He'll be OK, I know it now. I can't wait to tell Sir Nicholas!" He smiled.

Harry kissed the top of his head. It was hard to believe that this small boy was almost a Fifth Year. He could be their next Prefect, Harry thought. He'd have to talk to McGonagall about that.

"I meant what I said to Colin," Harry reminded him, taking his hand to walk him back. As they emerged from the forest, Harry felt a bit devious, though. "Now, Dennis, if I'm going to be your magical guardian until your parents get back, you have to realize that there will be some rules. You just wandered off and into the Forbidden Forest, didn't you?"

Dennis squeaked in surprise. "Y-y-yes, sir?"

"I guess I'm going to have to ground you, then, son," Harry smiled down at him. "Hagrid could use some help bathing the Hippogriff herd, and Mr. Filch has a _lot_ of work to do. Do you know where we might find a kitten?"

Dennis looked ecstatic. As they walked out of the trees, he said, "You know, this evening light, when it drops below 6500K, turns your prints yellow, unless you have an 80-series filter on the lens."

"Dennis, you know you can't tell anyone about this?" Harry told him.

"I know, Harry," Dennis agreed, "Colin told me."

Harry just smiled as they headed back in and climbed the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. "Wash up, it's time for dinner," he told the boy.

"Oh, Merlin!" Ron gasped, "Tell me you haven't _adopted_ him?"

"Would you be the Godfather, Ron?" Harry smirked at him.

Ron turned to Neville, his face white. "Murder me, Neville!" He begged, just as Hermione showed up with Teddy. Ron fled.

The next day, Harry accompanied Dennis to Hogsmeade Village. It didn't take them long to find what they were looking for.

When they returned to Hogwarts, where Dennis would spend two hours each day with Mr. Filch helping with cleanup, the boy presented him with a scruffy looking tiger-striped kitten.

"I found her, sir. Harry says to bring her to you?" Dennis told him.

For a moment, it looked as if Filch wanted to bludgeon the boy with his mop. Then his face softened, and he accepted the kitten, inviting Dennis to come along and wash windows with him.

"He smiled?" Seamus gasped, he and the others peering around a corner at the scene.

"Yes, he did," Harry nodded.

At lunch, they were surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt coming through a side door to join the staff at the high table. He beckoned to Harry.

"Auror Proudfoot contacted me this morning, Harry," Kingsley said in low voice, "I wanted to tell you personally, as I know you've a vested interest in this case. They brought in Squire Jugson last night, along with a few others."

Harry's face went hard. Then he smirked. "_Who_ names their kid 'Squire'?" His moment of levity passed quickly, though.

"Where is he?" Harry growled.

"Ministry, Auror Level 2, of course, in holding," Kingsley replied. He met Harry's glare for a moment. "Don't do anything stupid, Harry," he warned him.

"You actually think you can protect him from _me_?" Harry laughed. He toned it down when he noticed many of them staring at them. "As legal guardian to Dennis Creevey now, well, as soon as Percy processes our papers, I think it only fitting that Mr. Jugson have a speedy trial, where he can face is accusers, don't you?"

"Potter, you can't put the boy through _that_?" McGonagall gasped.

"Dennis has been writing a report," Harry informed them. "Let's say he's had some counseling, of a sort. He's fully prepared for this, and I've been staying up late reading some _very_ interesting things, Professor. I repeat, as Dennis' guardian, I expect Jugson to be punished to the fullest extent of the law."

"Under current law," Kingsley cleared his throat, "He'd get sent to Azkaban for twenty years. As it was, with the Dementors, I don't think he'd have lived that long, though."

"I only need a few minutes," Harry shrugged. "Whether I succeed or not, it's a moot point. He'll either be sufficiently punished, or he'll be brain dead."

"Since when do _you _dish out sentences?" Kingsley retorted, sounding shocked.

"Let me make this _clear_, Minister," Harry's voice was cold, "Either you will give me five minutes alone with him, if he's found guilty, or I will hunt him down _later_. Dennis Creevey is a child who couldn't defend himself against a monster! I will _not_ stand by while the man who raped him sits there, safely tucked away in prison without benefit of Dementors!"

They all just stared at him.

An emotion flickered across the Minister's face, for only a second, but Harry caught it.

Fear.

He found that he liked that.

"What was _that_ all about at lunch, Harry?" Hermione demanded, as they all sat around the Common Room that evening after a hard day's work of cleanup.

"Yeah, I can't believe you talked to Kingsley that way!" Ron exclaimed. "It sounded like you were threatening him!"

"I did no such thing," Harry shrugged, gently rocking Teddy as the baby finished his bottle. Then he burped him.

"Did ya really adopt Dennis?" Seamus wondered.

"I am his legal_ guardian,_ until his folks get back," Harry nodded. "Diggle misplaced them after the funeral!"

"I'm just going to come right out and say it, Harry," Hermione threw up her arms, "Just because you defeated Voldemort, that doesn't mean that you can just waltz into _wherever_ and just start giving orders! Do you really believe that the Wizengamot, such as it is, is just going to sit there while _you _dole out punishments?"

"There will be a trial, and if Jugson is found guilty, all I want is five minutes with him," Harry replied calmly. "I'm not going to kill him."

"You should," Dean mumbled, and they all looked at him. "What?! What that pervert did was _wrong_! He deserves whatever Harry gives him! I just hope I'm around to see the bastard what hurt Justin get _his_!"

"You lot can't just _run off _on a vendetta, every time you're angry with someone!" Hermione protested.

"Why not?" Ginny cut in, "I got an owl from Pauline Pringle today. She's pregnant."

"Wasn't she the Ravenclaw who left around February?" Neville asked, just as the door opened and a very dirty and tired Dennis came toddling in.

"Never say 'giddy-yap' when yer sittin' on Buckbeak's back, scrubbing," he mumbled, his head bobbling.

Harry handed Teddy off to Ginny; Teddy spit up on her. "Bath, then bed," Harry told the boy. "I'll be up in ten minutes."

"He's turning into Mum!" Ron fretted, watching them go.

"He's turning into _something_, all right," Hermione worried.

"I wouldn't worry," Seamus told her, "I wouldn't mind takin' a few licks at Jugson meself. Or Dawlish. Or Rowle, or any of 'em!"

"The Battle is over, _we_ won," Hermione reminded them all.

"Doesn't feel like it, sometimes," Dean muttered, as he got up to go. "I'm gonna go see Justin."

Seamus went with him.

"Harry, do I have to...to tell them, in court?" Dennis fretted, as Harry made sure that the remaining Fourth Years, soon to be Fifths, were all present and properly in bed.

"No, Dennis," he assured him. "All you have to do is ID him, and turn in your report."

"I'd tear him up, Denny," Nigel suggested.

"Boys, did any of the Death Eaters here...hurt _you_? Like...?" He nodded at Dennis, wondering if they knew.

"It's OK, sir," another boy replied, Preston-something, Harry thought, "Dennis told us. W-we had to take him to hospital, you know."

"Other than bein' beat, and put in chains, or Cruciated, no," Nigel added.

"They picked on Denny 'cause he were small," Preston said.

"Harry, do you think you could get me a growth potion?" Dennis yawned, just as the door cracked a bit. There was a soft knock.

"I saw the light on, and Miss Granger said you were here, Potter," Professor McGonagall offered, holding a letter, "Wolpert, your parents will be here tomorrow to get you." She looked at Harry again. "Everything all right here?"

"You just let nature have Her way," Harry ruffled Dennis' hair, tucking him in. "And no sneaking out!" He warned the boy, but Dennis was already asleep, exhausted from his big day with Hagrid.

"Thanks, Professor," Nigel smiled, as he rolled over and his curtains closed.

"No word yet, Smith," She told Preston.

"s'OK, they'll be fine," Smith nodded, "G'night." And his curtains slid shut.

"Well, two more of them have been claimed, at least," McGonagall sighed, glancing at the empty beds, "Harry," she whispered his name, "Do you think this wise?" She ushered him out the door.

"Professor, they _hurt_ him, physically _and _mentally!" Harry reminded her, "And he just asked for a growth potion, for God's sake!"

"Is it true you punished him today, for sneaking into the Forest?" She asked in disbelief.

"He loves it," Harry grinned, "And so does Hagrid!"

"Oh my goodness," McGonagall had to smile. "But getting back to your plan, Harry," She took his arm, "I don't know about getting involved. I'm sure I could do it, with minimal risk, but copying his memories? You want to _show_ them at the trial?"

"Yes, Professor, and I plan to implant them into Jugson's mind. Every day, right at bedtime, he's going to relive what he did to Dennis. Each and _every_ time he did it to him!" Harry's upper lip twitched in an ugly sneer. "I don't want him to _ever_ forget it! I want him to _know_ how Dennis felt!"

McGonagall blanched, clearly shaken. "Do you plan to remove these memories from the boy, too?" she then asked. "That's a bit more dangerous, with children, than just copying."

"As much as I'd like to, it's _too_ dangerous. He could have brain damage, if someone not that skilled in it tried. Damn, I wish Lockhart hadn't gone nuts. He was great at Memory Charms," Harry shook his head.

"And here we thought you were going to kill Jugson," she shook her head. "I'm sorry for thinking that of you, Harry. It's a fitting punishment." Then she paused. "Me, I'd turn him over to the Dementors for a nice long kiss!"

It was Harry's turn to gasp.

"_Professor,_ I didn't know you had it in you!" Harry managed.

"You'd be surprised what I've got in me," McGonagall replied. "I'll go and fetch a new Pensieve, and when Creevey's gone into REM sleep, I'll make the copy."

"Thank you, Professor," Harry smiled.

"Harry, if you're going to teach DADA classes here this fall, and with all we've been through," She took a long look at him, grasping his upper arms and just looking at him. "My, how you've grown. Every time I hear your voice, I half expect to see that short, skinny boy who was half-scared to sit on the stool and be Sorted!" She shook her head again. "You've grown into a fine young man, Harry, and if we're to work together, I think you may feel free to start calling me 'Minerva'."

"I need some time on that one, Professor," Harry smiled, "But thank you!" He grinned. "What's this I hear about 'Aunt Minnie' when Teddy's around?" He had to ask.

McGonagall gave him her most stern look. It didn't work anymore.

"Teddy is a _baby_," she replied primly.

Around two in the morning, a Pensieve was quietly filled with the silvery mists of Dennis Creevey's memories. The boy stirred in his sleep, whimpering. When the job was finished, Dennis turned on his side and snuggled down deeper into his blankets, covering his head. She pulled the blanket back, afraid he'd suffocate. As the Pensieve floated away to await its use, she considered long and hard the ramifications of her actions.

Again, she drew her wand, still tingling from the memory duplication.

She then whispered softly, "Somnium jucundum!" [pleasant dreams]

Behind closed eyelids, the boy's eyes were moving. He smiled in his sleep.

And for the first time in a long time, Dennis Creevey slept through the night.

"And just what do _you_ know about law?" Hermione was complaining to Harry, "Can't you find a _real_ lawyer to hire?"

"Dudley was addicted to those TV crime shows," Harry replied, "I think I know when to object and such. In fact, I think if I had to watch one more episode, I'd scream. I'd have tossed that bitch down the elevator shaft too, come to think of it?"

"The Wizengamot works a bit different," Ron warned him.

"Television," Neville said, "Never saw the use of it. Gran thinks it's Muggle madness!"

"How is Gran?" Seamus asked.

"Annoyed. They won't let her visit Dawlish in hospital," Neville laughed. "Said she wasn't done with him, as they got interrupted? He's claiming he was Imperious Cursed, but Gran wants to make sure he's not lying."

"I think she should guest lecture for DADA next term," Harry mused. Neville gasped.

"It's getting quiet around here," Ron mused, "Nigel left today, said his folks were taking him to Fiji. Smith's did too, but they're off to the Canary Islands. _I'd_ like to go to Fiji." He looked at Harry. "Any word yet?"

"No," Harry said curtly, adjusting his tie and smoothing his dress robes. "I don't like the idea of him being in that room all alone, either. Has anyone seen Andromeda?"

"She was headed out with Gran and Teddy and Mrs. Weasley," Neville spoke up, "Something about Hogsmeade?"

"Merlin help 'em," Seamus grinned. "Harry, why don't you ask Dennis down? I'm headed home today, he can have my bed," He announced, "Da' called and said Mam were in a state. Best go see if I can settle her down."

"Good luck," Dean mumbled.

Ron rolled his eyes.

"I think it's sweet," Ginny offered, and Ron turned white, just as the Fat Lady called out for Harry.

"Package from Wizard's Parcel Service, sir," Greene announced, answering the door. He and Humphries were the last two Firsties left. He handed the box over to Harry.

"It's from Gringotts, Trust Division," Harry read the label, and they all pulled their wands, scanning it. The package was clean, but there was a red envelope attached to it.

"Howler!" Ron gasped, as the letter went off.

"_**To be delivered to Harry Potter in the event of my death!" **_The voice of Alastor Moody growled, _**"As I've no one else ter leave it to! Enclosed, you'll find a key to my special vault, and a few things that might come in handy here. Not sure about your size, but I got a good look at you a few times, compared you ter yer dad. The coat should fit. I expect you to use it until it falls apart! Constant vigilance, Potter! Oh, the Dragonhide vest may be a bit loose. Sorry. Getting old and fat in my dotage, I guess! Anyway, what are you all standin' around gawking at?" **_The letter said, as if it could see them, _**"Try it on! You might have to charm boots down, though, small as yeh are! Use it well!"**_ The Howler then self-destructed.

Harry pulled out a long brown trench coat. For a moment, he just stared at it, the dream about the Mirror coming back to him. He took off his dress robe, and tried it on. "I think I'll go and change," he mused. "Has anyone seen Dennis?"

"Still in bed, slept through breakfast," Ginny said, "I'll go and fetch him."

When Harry returned, they all gasped. Harry looked thrilled, looking a great deal like Moody.

"You look absolutely deranged, mate," Ron complimented him.

"Check this out!" Harry crowed, sticking his chest out to show off the vest. "Go on! Hit me with something! It's magically Dragonhide-armor plated!"

"Seems to be the real thing," Hermione nodded, walking around Harry and inspecting him, scanning him with her wand. "Those boots are just _so_ not you, though!" She took aim at him. "Stupefy!" She cast the hex, but it bounced off the vest. "Averte Statem!" That one bounced off, too.

"C'mon then!" Harry egged her on. "Hit me!"

"Reducto!" The curse ricocheted off and blew a small hole in the wall. Harry just stood there, smiling at her.

"Decided on a career, have we?" McGonagall spoke up, clambering through the Portait hole. She stared at Harry in mild shock. "Of course you know, some of the enchantments on that outfit are illegal," she informed him. "Where's Creevey? It's time to go," she changed tracks. "You're not going out dressed like _that_, are you, Harry?"

"Why not?" Harry asked.

"It's scary," Neville commented.

"It's ridiculous," Hermione added, just as Ginny came down the stairs with Dennis.

He was looking very dapper in a black Muggle style suit with polished dress shoes, and she'd styled his hair. The only bit of color was his Gryffindor tie.

"Ready to kick arse and take names?" Harry asked him.

"You look COOL!" Dennis smiled at him.

"You'll be Portkey'ing to the visitors entrance," McGonagall informed them, "Where you'll meet up with Arthur. You _sure _you want to go out in public looking like that, Harry?" She asked again.

"Just give us the Portkey," Harry sighed, taking Dennis' hand.

When they arrived, Arthur blinked at them, and complimented Dennis. He didn't say anything other than 'hello' to Harry. As they descended through the phone booth, Dennis was awed. "Percy's waiting below," Arthur informed them. "Good luck."

"We won't need it, thanks," Harry shook his hand, as they entered the Wizengamot Chambers.

There weren't as many members in plum robes as Harry remembered, the War having taken out a few of them, he guessed. He smiled when he saw Elphias Doge sitting at the head of the council, Kingsley observing, with Percy awaiting them at the plaintiff's table. Everyone was staring at Harry as he had Dennis sit, then pulled out an expanding briefcase from his coat.

Doge cleared his throat. "Let's get this over with, Moody...I mean, Potter," he grinned, "I intend to be here until dinnertime, not senility!" He waved his wand, and an illusion of a lineup of some rather nasty looking men appeared in a frame on the wall. "In the matter of the charges brought by legal guardian of...?" Doge asked, as Percy handed him some papers, "Of one Dennis Reid Creevey, Gryffindor student, advancing to Fifth Year," he read through the papers, "Harry Potter designated legal guardian, good. Diggle's still trying to remember where he left your folks, boy! Now, as to the charges of..." Doge's face fell as he flipped the pages. "Things I won't repeat in the presence of ladies," he coughed. "Son, can you identify the man who allegedly did these _things_ to you?" He pointed to the illusory image.

Dennis fidgeted in his seat. "Third one from the left, sir, with the dark hair and funny nose." The image zoomed in on just him.

"This man was a security guard at Hogwarts during last term?" Doge asked, and Dennis nodded. "Bring in the accused!" Doge shouted, and the center of the floor opened up. Harry remembered the barbaric looking chair from his trip into Dumbledore's Pensieve some years before, at the trial where Igor Karkarov had ratted out Barty Crouch, Jr. It hadn't changed a bit, looking like some mad combination of chair and cage. Sitting in it was a man. Dennis gasped, and Harry put his arm about his shoulders and pulled him close.

"Do you know his name?" Doge asked.

"Officer Jugson, sir," Dennis replied.

"So noted, plaintiff has identified defendant. Squire Jugson," Doge went on, nodding, "You are accused of _deviant_ acts with a minor, use of Unforgivable Curses on students, and a host of other crimes during your association with the recently departed Dark Lord. I'd read them all, but we'd be here all day! How do you plead?"

Jugson laughed, and it was enough to send chills down one's spine. He glared at Percy, Harry, and Dennis.

"I never done nothin' ter that little Mudblood midget!" Jugson snarled, "Nothin' but what I were ordered ter do!"

Doge nodded to Harry, who got up and approached him. "You were employed by the Carrows, weren't you? As a security guard at Hogwarts?"

"I were," Jugson nodded.

"And you enjoyed your job, keeping the kids in line? Making sure everything was secure?"

"Yes."

"Do you know this student?" Harry asked.

"They all look tha same ter me."

"Then how do you know he's a 'Mudblood', as you said?" Harry asked, pulling a paper. "According to this, he's a Halfblood of the Reeves line?"

Jugson glared at him. "Whatever. Ain't here ner there ter me, what his blood is."

"You admit that you assaulted him?" Harry pressed him.

"I disciplined a lotta kids," Jugson shrugged.

"Yes, that _was_ your job, wasn't it?" Harry went on, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small bottle. "Then you've nothing to hide, then? Maybe you can tell us who else might have harmed this boy, or any other students?"

"Don't know, now, do I?"

"Does the court object?" Harry asked, but no one did.

Jugson laughed at him. "I gots nothin' ter hide!" But he seemed reluctant, as if having a change of mind.

"_Don't_ you?" Harry grinned at him, reaching through the cage to grab his nose. He waited until Jugson opened his mouth to gasp, and poured the Veritaserum down his throat. He gave it a minute. "Sir, I'd ask that Dennis now be excused. I'd also suggest that the ladies consider leaving. You've seen his report, signed affidavits from myself and Headmistress McGonagall, and I see no point in traumatizing him further by making him talk about it."

Doge nodded, and Percy escorted Dennis to the door.

"You seem quite convinced, Potter?" One of them asked him. "You're bordering on contempt!"

"Yeah, little liar can't stand there and face me?" Jugson snorted.

Dennis suddenly turned on him, and Percy nearly pulled him over before he could stop. "You hit me, you tortured me, you cursed me – with the Unforgivable one – and you made me have sex with you! You _molested_ me!" Dennis spat. "THERE!"

"Score one for Gryffindor bravery," Percy mumbled, patting his back as the Wizengamot looked on, stunned.

About then, the Veritaserum kicked in.

"You _like_ little boys, don't you?" Harry asked Jugson bluntly.

"Objection!" Someone from the council spoke up, but it sounded more like a formality than defense.

"Overruled," Doge growled.

"Yes," Jugson answered, to the shock of many. "Boys, girls..." he muttered dreamily.

"Squire Jugson, did you sexually assault that boy who just left the room?" Harry asked bluntly, as several members of the Wizengamot gasped again at his audacity.

"Yes, I _did_ – and I'd do it again!" Jugson exclaimed.

"Tell us all about it, please?" Harry asked.

He then began to go into lurid detail. Several of the ladies fainted. Doge looked ill.

"Who_ else _was doing these things to students?" Harry demanded. "NAMES! I want names!"

And Jugson talked. Doge scribbled notes.

"You cursed the Creevey boy? And others? You used manacles on them? You assaulted and tortured them?" Harry demanded. "_And _you molested Dennis?"

"YES!"

"Why?"

"Because I _could_!" Jugson grinned.

"Whom else did you molest?"

"Just him," Jugson said in that dreamy voice.

"That's a relief," Doge muttered.

"Were you ordered to do these things?" Harry pressed on, his anger building.

"Yes."

"Were you ordered to _molest_ anyone?"

"Nope. I just enjoyed me work! Fringe benefits."

"I've heard _enough_," Doge called out.

"If it would please the Wizengamot," Harry offered, pulling out the Pensieve, "I would like to enter into the record the memories extracted from Dennis Creevey by Minerva McGonagall, as evidence."

"Proceed," Doge said, his voice unsteady.

Harry removed the lid. "Acclaro!" He flicked his wand at it.

A 3D image of a Gryffindor dormitory formed up, with bed curtains at the edges, as if from a student's point of view. Jugson was walking toward the viewers, a horrible and anxious look on his face. "Get up, Creevey," his hand reached forward, covering the lower half of the image. They were jostled with the view then, as if Dennis were being dragged out of the room and down a corridor to an unused classroom.

"Take yer clothes off, boy," Jugson was saying, as the view changed to a pair of small slippers being kicked off. Pyjama trousers fell to the floor around bare feet. There was a sound of sniffling and coughing. The view lowered some.

"P-please d-don't!" They all heard Dennis' voice crying, begging, as Jugson began undoing his trousers.

Many of the Wizengamot looked away as the images became unspeakable.

Memory!Dennis screamed.

"ENOUGH!" Doge flicked his wand at it, and the image vanished.

Percy cleared his throat, passing a folder of papers to Harry. "I would also like to enter into the record, Dennis Creevey's medical files from Madame Poppy Pomfrey, Hogwarts Chief Medical Witch. They'll replicate via Gemino Curse a dozen times," Harry added. "And I would remind the court, that these are private files. If any of these proceedings show up in the press, I will be...unhappy."

"I object. We don't need _you_ to tell us..." a witch began to say.

"Shut up, Betsy," Doge cut across her. "Your friend, Rita, isn't getting her hands on _any_ of this."

"As you can see, the same repeated treatments for trauma to the boy's re-..."

"I see," Doge cut across Harry, "I _can_ read, you know."

"She took samples?" Doge asked. "Not too bright, are we, Jugson? Leaving evidence lying about? I'm sure that handy Muggle DNA test thing will come in handy, proving a match."

Jugson, however, was now suffering Veritaserum hangover.

"Bella were foolin' around with Yaxley, ya know," Jugson was mumbling.

"Snap him out of it," Kingsley ordered, and Doge did that. "Well, Mr. Potter," he turned to Harry. "You were saying that you'd like five minutes with this man, if he were found guilty? What say ye, members of the Wizengamot? Innocent?"

No one said a word.

"Guilty as charged?"

All hands raised.

Doge fired a loud bang from his wand. He leaned forward, looking at Harry. "I've been informed, Mr. Potter, that you and your friends think our sentencing structure is ridiculous? In that case, perhaps _you'd_ like to come up with a better one?"

"I would, your honour," Harry agreed.

"You've been watching Muggle TV crime dramas, haven't you?" Doge laughed.

Harry ignored him, raising his wand. "I could easily Cruciate you, Jugson, just like you did those kids. I could hit you, I could hang you in chains, or even kill you with my bare hands – no one would convict _me_! But I've come up with something a bit more humane. I think you might like it."

Jugson, now fully coherent again, was trembling in the chair as Harry approached him. He recognized the wand in Harry's hand, saw the look on his face, saw the slight flick of the wand in a wordless spell.

Jugson screamed.

"Honestly, I haven't touched him," Harry held out his hands. "Bad memories, mate? Scared of what Dumbledore's old wand might do?" Harry whispered to him, "Then again, Voldemort _was_ afraid of the old man, wasn't he?" Harry flicked the Elder Wand again. "I'm stopping at Ollie's today to have it polished, to display in his office as an historical relic," Harry added, grinning, but I think it deserves one last use, don't you?"

Swirling vapors then rose from the Pensieve, sparkling in the air, like dancing clouds of glowing and frosty breath in the sun on a winter's day. They rose up around the tip of the wand, and then Harry pointed it at Jugson.

"LEGILLIMENS!" He shouted, and the swirls of memory began to flow towards Jugson, hitting his face, and vanishing as if he were inhaling them.

Jugson's face went deathly pale, his eyes went wide, and he screamed again. He struggled and thrashed in the chair, cutting himself in a dozen places as he fought against the restraints in a futile bid to escape.

"Justice," Harry said flatly. "Thank you for your time, Minister – Your Honour, members of the Wizengamot." He bowed and turned to go.

"What _have_ you done, Potter?" Doge asked, looking confused.

"I've grafted Dennis' memories into Jugson's mind," Harry shrugged. "An accidental little trick I learned from a lesson with Professor Snape gone wrong when I was in Fifth Year. You see, I was to learn Occlumency, keeping someone OUT. But I found I was better at getting IN."

"And _that's_ it? What about prison time?" Kingsley wondered.

Harry shrugged. "That'd be good, too. Twenty years per count is fine, I suppose. However, there's a catch, Minister, Your Honour – those memories will automatically replay _every day_ for the rest of Jugson's life. For every time he ...assaulted... Dennis, he'll relive each time once a day in real-time. It'll be just like _he's_ the one being assaulted."

The remaining members all went pale again. Several jaws dropped.

"That's _monstrous_!" Betsy-whoever protested.

Harry just smirked at her. "So was what _he_ did to Dennis, and that boy will have to live with that for the rest of _his_ life, too!"

"Harry," Doge then said, his voice lower now, "I think I can speak for the Wizengamot when I say – you have our permission to Obliviate the boy's memory, when it's safe enough to do so." They conferred for a moment. "It is also our judgment that any and all funds in Jugson's account at Gringotts be transferred to the Creevey boy at once as some compensation."

"Thank you, sir," Harry nodded, then turned his head to give Betsy, Rita's friend, a glare. She shrank back in her seat.

"Oh!" Harry snapped his fingers, turning back around to face them again. "One more thing, Minister, Members? I'd like to bring charges of murder, or rather, _another_ charge of it, against Fenrir Greyback."

"Who's _next_ on _that_ list?" Doge sighed.

"Colin Creevey, Dennis' _elder _brother," Harry said, with just a bit of a hitch to his voice.

"Are we done yet?" Doge snorted.

"I am, sir?" Harry inclined his head politely.

"Dismissed, then! **Get out!***" Doge fired his wand again.

Harry met up with Dennis in the corridor. He was chatting with Arthur Weasley about computers and something like 98 windows?

"Congratulations, Dennis! You nailed him! He's going to be in Azkaban for a long, long time," Harry assured him.

"With Dementors?" Dennis asked anxiously.

They all flinched at the savagery evident in his request. Dennis looked as if he might cry then, but he didn't. Harry was proud of him.

"What say we go get some ice cream?" Harry asked.

"Florian Fortescue's gone," Percy reminded them.

"I'm sure we can find someplace in the Muggle side of town," Harry nodded.

"I'd like that," Dennis smiled and took his hand.

And although he'd put on a brave face, Harry could feel his small hand trembling in his own.

Dennis Creevey still had a long way to go.

_Don't we all?_ Harry had to wonder.

That night, Dennis slept in Seamus' bed, as all his friends had finally gone home. He drifted off almost at once, completely done in by his big day. Harry was watching Teddy, while Ron looked at Colin's photos with Hermione. Dean was in Hospital, sitting by Justin, who still hadn't regained consciousness, and Neville was reading in bed.

"You know, your older brothers probably felt the same way about _you_," Harry reminded Ron, noting the look on his face as he glanced at a sleeping Dennis.

"Harry, can I give this one to George?" Ron then asked, still browsing the thousands of photographs from Colin. It was a picture of the Twins holding up a toilet seat.

"I think it's a great idea," Hermione agreed, as she browsed with him. "Oh, look! Crookshanks!"

"Where _is_ that ugly brute, anyway?" Ron provoked her.

"In Australia, with Mum and Dad," Hermione replied coolly, "I should probably make plans to go and fetch them."

"I think the International Portkey Office is still down," Harry said, "Krum should be arriving on that ship of his tomorrow morning, though. Did you know that Durmstrang'ers start school at age ten, and only get all of July and August off for summer holiday?"

"Blimey," Ron snorted, "Poor kids."

"Speaking of," Harry nodded at Dennis, who didn't like to close all his curtains. He liked to have the one facing the door open. "He's been asleep for a couple hours. He's dreaming."

Hermione looked from Dennis to Harry and back again, but said nothing.

"_I'm_ going to have nightmares about those pyjamas," Ron worried. "Honestly, Harry, he's going to be fifteen in August. He's not a toddler!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked warily, glancing at Teddy's bassinet by his bedside.

"Meaning that if you put a nappie on Dennis and a dummy [pacifier] in his mouth, you'd be treating them the same way!" Ron pointed out.

Neville looked up from his book on Advanced Herbology. "Ron, have you ever been hung up in iron maidens, barefoot, and had your feet burned with a torch, healed magically, then burned again a few minutes later?"

Ron said nothing.

"Well, Dennis _has_," Neville went on. "The Carrows could be really _creative_, when they wanted to be. And being so small, and a Gryffindor, Dennis was the perfect target. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is, having a part of your body Vanished, and knowing the person who Vanished it is the only one who can bring it back? Leave him alone!" Neville said with uncharacteristic authority.

Then again, Neville had changed a lot.

_But they've used you as a knife sharpener!**_

"What memories shall I erase, then?" Hermione asked.

Ron and Neville both gasped.

"This was _your_ idea!" Ron accused Harry, looking horrified. "Memory extraction copies are dangerous enough on kids, but _one _slip, and you'll give him a lobotomy!"

For an instant, Hermione was proud that Ron even knew that about Memory Charms.

"I selectively removed my parents memories of me," Hermione defended the idea.

"They're adults, fully-formed brains!" Ron protested.

"What doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger," Neville put in. "Leave me out of this, mates. I won't be party to it. All I'll say is it's dangerous. What we've been through has made us stronger, I think." He paused. "Did either of you ask _Dennis_ if he wanted this?"

"Neville, a man _raped_ him!" Harry reminded him. "That isn't my idea of making him stronger! It's probably going to make him introverted and unable to form meaningful relationships later in life! And what if he were gay, like Dean? Even _that's_ ruined now, because he'll just associate it with brutality!"

"Or seek out an older, abusive partner," Hermione added.

"Is there anything you _don't_ know?" Ron snorted. "It sounds good in theory, mates, but you're talking about screwing around with the kid's _brain_!"

"As his guardian, I have to decide what's best for him," Harry decided, looking at Teddy. He bit his lower lip.

"Oh, God, _**no**_?!" Hermione gasped.

Harry nodded. His lip was bleeding.

"Diggle called on the Floo just after dinner," Harry whispered, "Dennis is officially an orphan now."

"How'd it happen?" Neville breathed, eyes brimming. It was the first time they'd seen him even _near_ tears since returning to Hogwarts.

"Drunk driver. They'd gone back to Penzance after the funeral with Diggle to get their things. They insisted, silly Muggles, that they take a cab and let Diggle get back to work with other families of Muggleborns. They were hit head on, killed instantly. Dammit, _why _didn't they stay_ here_?"

"This news will kill him, Harry," Neville sighed. "It's too much. _We_ can handle loss of parents. But _he_ can't – _not_ with all the rest."

"Yes," Ron agreed, "Do it."

"Together," Hermione told Harry, "_That _wand knows you, and it'll know how you care for Dennis. I don't think it will harm him."

Together, they held the Elder Wand to Dennis' forehead.

"Obliviate," They whispered lovingly.

A/N: ***Star Trek:Deep Space 9**,©1993-1999. The Creevey boys could have watched to Season 5.

*Homage-Judge Henry Bone, **Pickett Fences**,©CBS Television,1994.

**DH, pp. 574, USA


	5. Chapter 5-Malfoy Manor

**Dark Mirror X**

**5**

**Malfoy Manor**

"_**Here I wait, just to be forgiven."-©GTR'1986**_

Harry watched Dennis closely that next morning for signs that they'd damaged him with the Memory Charm. There didn't seem to be any symptoms, as far as motor control or language, once Dennis was up and moving around. He gathered up his shower kit as the others did, but Harry stopped him.

"Would you mind watching Teddy until we're done?" Harry asked.

"Sure," Dennis shrugged. Teddy was delighted with the boy's screaming yellow pyjamas, it seemed, and his haired turned mouse-brown to match Dennis'. Dennis laughed. "You don't have to worry, Harry," he then explained, "Everyone else is more mature than me anyhow, so I'm used to it. Hell, there's Seconds bigger than me now. You sure I can't have a growth potion?"

"I'll ask Madame P.," Harry promised. "Are you sure you're all right? Yesterday was pretty tough."

"Don't remind me!" Dennis laughed, "Between Hagrid and Mr. F., I was beat!"

"I meant the other," Harry wheedled.

"What other? I was with them all day? Honestly!" Dennis wondered. "I promise, I didn't sneak off to the village to buy candy, Harry!" Then he clapped his hands over his mouth.

Harry smiled. It was a sign that the false memory he'd thought to implant had taken hold. Luckily he'd had candy to place in Dennis' drawer, so it would fit. Harry grinned as the boy denied doing it, when in fact, Dennis remembered he had indeed done that – instead of going to the Ministry to accuse Jugson. And he also ratted himself out!

Harry just smiled at him.

"Do you remember the guard named Jugson?" Neville asked him.

"Yeah, don't _you_? Ugly brute. Liked to backhand you, but that was better than a Crucio, weren't it?" Dennis answered with a shiver.

"He ever do you?" Neville asked.

"Just hit me a few times, never cursed me, well, not bad. Stingers and such," Dennis shrugged. "It were them damn Carrows you had to look out for!"

"Language," Harry warned him, satisfied that the boy was all right and that their Memory Charm had worked. At least, on the most of the worst stuff. They hadn't wanted to risk removing the entire year, since that would have made it obvious that Dennis' memory had been tampered with. "OK, we'll be back in a bit. If Teddy cries, just rock him some. He's already been fed, and his nappie is new."

"OK!" Dennis smiled.

"When are you going to tell him?" Ron asked, as they showered.

"When did we get a new roommate?" Dean asked.

"Last night," Harry explained. "He'd be alone up there, and he's _my_ responsibility now. I promised Colin."

Ron's eyebrow went up, but he said nothing.

"Oh, no," Dean sighed. "God, I'm sorry, Harry. Death Eaters?"

"Drunk driver, ironically," Harry shrugged. "All that work to protect them, and a drunk kills them. He doesn't know yet, Dean," Harry added, nodding to Ron.

"They wiped parts of his memory last night," Ron informed him. "He doesn't remember being molested, or the trial, or some of the really bad stuff they did to him."

"Good," Dean agreed. "Damn, wish I could forget some of it."

"Me too," Neville sighed.

"How's Justin?" Harry asked.

"He squeezed my hand last night and sorta groaned!" Dean informed them happily. "We think he's responding to stimuli. His pupils work!"

"Good sign," Neville slapped him on the back. "Let us know when he wakes up!"

"Yeah, it's great, Dean!" Ron agreed.

"You guys really don't mind?" Dean asked reluctantly.

"As long as you don't mind living with Dennis," Harry smiled wanly. "But no, I don't mind."

"Least you got a boyfriend," Neville fudged, "Well, one, I mean. I've been seeing Luna, you know, but I was seeing Hannah Abbott, and..."

"You can't have a harem, Neville, even though you're a big cool guy who killed the snake now," Ron informed him. "You can only have one."

"The Arabians have harems?" Neville joked.

"They have eunuchs, too," Ron laughed, and they all flinched at _that _joke.

Back in their dorm room, they found Mrs. Tonks waiting for them. Dressed only in towels or dressing gowns, they were so shocked that Neville nearly fell over backwards. Ron dived behind his bed, but Dean didn't seem to mind. Harry didn't either; he just adjusted his dressing gown.

"You could have warned me, kiddo," she said to Dennis, turning around, as they dressed.

"You live in a house full of women, you don't let it bother you," Dean explained, although Neville seemed ready to die of embarrassment.

"Oh, _honestly_, Neville!" Andromeda snorted. "I was friends with your parents, you know, and Gran Augusta." She looked devious. "I've changed _your_ nappies before, you know."

Neville fainted.

"The fabled Gryffindor courage," Andromeda laughed.

As they dressed behind their beds, curtains pulled, Hermione and Ginny came calling.

"Oi! Naked men in here!" Ron shouted.

"Nothing I haven't seen before," Ginny snorted. "And Dean's gay anyway. Sorry, Neville," she offered to his closed curtains.

"You knew?" Ron poked his head out.

"'course I knew, he was quite decent to tell me," Ginny mused. "It's just awful that he thought he had to date girls to hide it."

"You like _boys_?" Dennis pulled a face. He thought about it for a moment. "I'll get back to you on that one after the growth potion," he decided.

"Don't you _like_ girls, then?" Neville grinned.

"No!" Dennis declared. "Lauren kissed me once – it was _gross_!"

They all had a good laugh about that as Ginny came to sit by Harry, now that he was dressed. "We've altered his memory," Harry whispered in her ear.

"Oh, Harry," Andromeda spoke up, gathering up Teddy to head out, "I got a call last night. She's agreed to see you. Any time is fine. Just call ahead."

Harry nodded to her. "You lot go on, I have something to talk to Dennis about."

"You're really going to do this?" Neville asked on the way out, "You're going to talk to Malfoy?"

"I'm going to talk to them_ all_, yes," Harry replied.

Neville made an indelicate sound and left.

"What is it, Harry?" Dennis wondered, "I'm sorry I sneaked off. I won't do it again."

"Of course you will," Harry assured him, "We all did it a few times. Remind me that we need to dig out one of the old secret passages sometime!" He took a deep breath. "Dennis, come here," Harry then told him. Dennis sat down next to him.

"Do you remember what we promised Colin?"

"Yes?" Then his expression went flat. "No? _No_, Harry, NO?!" He cried, jumping up, shaking his head.

Harry's stomach fell.

Dennis knew.

He watched helplessly as the boy fell to his knees. Again, he heard Dennis scream.

It was a thousand times worse than the scream he'd heard from the Pensieve.

The Dennis exploded.

Harry was forced to cast a hasty Shield Charm, as even without his wand in hand, Dennis began throwing off magical bursts of destructive energy that broke windows and chipped the walls. Harry started, shocked, and decided that a short burst of his rudimentary Legillimency might be in order. If nothing else, to startle _him _enough to shut him down.

He couldn't get into Dennis' head. It was like slamming head-on into a wall.

Somewhere in Harry's mind, a baby was crying. Someone else was sobbing.  
He lifted Dennis from the floor, taking him in his arms.  
_He was so light._  
The sensation was familiar...  
_You have your mother's eyes_...

Realization hit Harry like a Bludger – Snape must have carried him from the ruined house in Godric's Hollow, sobbing over his lost Lily. He must have stared into baby Harry's teary eyes.

_And he had to make a choice.  
But he carried you OUT of the damaged house?_

For a moment, Harry considered sedating the hysterical boy. Then an image of Cameron Avery came to mind. What if the shock if this were too much, and Dennis ended up catatonic?

_We can handle the loss of parents, _Neville had said.

_Thank God we altered his memory!_

"Dennis? Dennis, LISTEN TO ME!" Harry gave him a mild shake, after nearly ten minutes of hysterics, and random magical outbursts ricocheting around the room and bouncing off his shields.

The boy seemed to go limp in his arms then, still crying, but no longer struggling and screaming.

"Dennis, you're going to hurt yourself! Or ME!" Harry exclaimed. "Now _listen_ to me! Listen..." he put his palms on the boy's cheeks, making him face him. "There's nothing I can say to make this better, Dennis! There's _nothing_ I can do to bring them back to life. But you're not the only one! You will survive this, Dennis! Me, Neville, Avery, Teddy, and YOU _will_ survive this!"

He wiped the boy's face, sat there and rocked him, holding him, until the rest of it finally passed. For a moment, Harry was afraid that he'd lost him, like Avery, but Dennis was simply sitting still.

"Who did it?" Dennis asked, his unbroken voice low and cold.

"Someone I didn't know, a Death Eater named Warner. If it's any comfort, Dennis, _he_ didn't survive it, either," Harry lied smoothly.

"What could _my_ parents have done?" Dennis sniffled, "They were Muggles?"

"Your father had a handgun, Dennis," Harry lied again. "While Warner was torturing them, he turned his concentration on your mum. Your dad blew his head off. Their injuries were too severe, though. But know this Dennis – they didn't go down without a fight."

Dennis sat very still for a long time, hardly even blinking.

"It's a good _thing_ he's dead," the small boy said, which got Harry's attention at once. His contact with the attempted Legillimency had only been minute, but he'd sensed a change in the normally exuberant and bright boy. If he didn't nip this in the proverbial bud, Harry knew, Dennis Creevey could well turn into a monster.

"Denny, I think you'll find that vengeance isn't all you think it is," Harry advised him.

_And just what do you call what you did to Jugson?  
JUSTICE..._

"Wh-what did you call me?" Dennis asked.

"Dennis, I mean. I'm sorry," Harry apologized quickly, remembering that the image of Colin had called him that.

"I think I'd like it better, if you call me 'Denny'," Dennis said thoughtfully. "Harry, do you think he knew? Colin, I mean?"

"What?" Harry gasped.

"He said it wasn't linear," Dennis went on, "Do you think he knew Mum and Dad were gonna get killed?"

"I don't have the answer to that, Denny," Harry ruffled his hair. "But I do know one thing. I don't think Colin could have ever found rest not knowing what happened to you."

Dennis sighed. "We missed breakfast."

"I'm sure Kreacher will have saved us some," Harry assured him, flicking his wand behind his back so that Dennis wouldn't see the Patronus leaving. Oddly enough, casting it made Harry feel almost constipated, as if it were hard to get the Stag to appear.

_As if you're all that happy,_ he told himself.

Moments later, Mrs. Weasley knocked on the door. "Harry, can you spare Dennis? George wants to go to Hogsmeade and look for a location to expand into. So many of the children have gone home, and we could really use a customer's point of view?"

"Can I, Harry?!" Dennis squeaked.

Harry nodded. Dennis hugged him again, then took off with Mrs. Weasley.

A mother who'd lost a child.  
A child who'd lost a mother.

It seemed right, somehow.

"Keep him too busy to think about it, Molly," Harry mumbled.

"You didn't tell anyone, did you?" Andromeda demanded, as Harry tracked her down, finally, replanting shrubbery around the frame of a new greenhouse with Madames Sprout and Hooch.

"No," Harry replied cryptically, "Where's Teddy?"

"With Hagrid," Andromeda replied, slipping a rock into his hand. She nodded. "So, will you be late?"

"I hope so," Harry replied, palming his face. "Hagrid? _Really_?"

"So where you off too, Mad Eye?" Neville joked, coming around the corner with small potted fir trees under each arm.

"You're actually wearing _that_?" Madame Hooch asked.

"Yes!" Harry growled, as he went down to the front gates, squeezed the rock, and vanished into a Portkey wake.

"Nothing hotter than a man in leather, but I wasn't about to tell _him_ that!" Madame Hooch laughed.

The first thing Harry noticed when he materialized outside the front gates of Malfoy Manor was the _long_ walk up the way to the house proper. Having been there before, he had some idea of how large the house was, and from having heard Draco brag about it. "I once got lost in the east wing, and the Elves didn't find me for a whole day!" Young Draco had said, taunting Ron, of course. "Weasley would never get lost, though, since they only have two rooms!"

Harry stared through the iron gates, down the lane lined with hedges and evergreens. Some of them were burnt, though, and there were gaping holes here and there in the once pristine landscaping. A peacock called, and Harry remembered (from Draco's bragging) that his father bred the white variety. The peacock got no answer though.

Harry thought it sounded like a woman calling for help.

The "M" on the gates' latch seemed to be scowling at him. He waited. No one came. The gates did not open. Pulling Draco's wand from his coat's breast pocket, he held it out. "Andromeda Black-Tonks tells me that I'm expected by Madame Malfoy? Harry Potter," he said plainly.

The gates swung open.

As he walked up the lane, one thought filled his mind:_ It sure didn't seem this long the last time I was here_! In fact, he recalled, that walk had gone by far too quickly. He remembered Greyback, Scabior, and the Snatchers. He remembered his face hurting, swollen, disguising him behind Hermione's Stinging Hex. He remembered Hermione screaming.

He remembered Bellatrix's hollow, mad laughter.

But he remembered Draco.

_I can't be sure. I don't know_. [pp. 457-8]

On he walked. _Hawthorne, reasonably pliant_ … Harry gripped Draco's won wand. _Unicorn hair..._He'd found it hard to believe that a wand with unicorn hair would have chosen Draco. _...A creature so pure..._Voldemort had been living off of the blood of slain unicorns, almost seven years ago.

Seven years ago, he'd just been finding out that he was a wizard. 'A thumpin' good'un,' Hagrid had wagered.

_I say, look at that man!  
That's Hagrid.  
He's sort of a servant, isn't he?  
He's the Gamekeeper.  
I've heard he's a sort of savage?  
I think he's brilliant.  
Where are your parents?  
They're dead.  
But they were our kind, weren't they?  
They were a witch and wizard...  
I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? _[pp 97-98 SS]

Harry remembered that at first, he'd so wanted to be friends with Draco, the first other magical child he'd ever met. _And so like Dudley_, Harry thought. If only Draco knew! He had to grin at that one. For just a second, he wondered how Dudley was.

It was ironic, Harry thought, that Draco Malfoy still had his parents, still had his home to come back to. And yet a sweet kid like Dennis didn't. It didn't seem fair.

Suddenly Harry wasn't so sure about Cameron Avery anymore, thinking back to what a little snot Draco had been.

_You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter_.  
He'd offered his hand. Harry hadn't shaken it.  
_I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thank you_. [pp. 135 SS]

"Why the hell am I here?" Harry mumbled, as he raised his fist to knock.

But as he did, the door swung open.

Narcissa Malfoy was not as he remembered. Even out in the forest, in the middle of a war, she'd been an elegant lady. Harry remembered that she'd looked like she had the first time he'd ever seen her – at the Quidditch World Cup, just before Fourth Year had taken up. She'd looked haughty, as if she'd smelled something bad. In the forest, though, she'd looked frightened, but still a beautiful lady.

Now she was gaunt, her face lined, her cheeks sunken. Her hair was tied back, unkempt, and the beauty (yes, she'd been beautiful) was marred by chapped lips and dark circles under her dull eyes. Her black dress was rumpled, speckled here and there with lint. As she moved her hand in a gesture of 'come in', Harry saw that they were dry and the nails bitten.

"Madame Malfoy," he offered with a nod.

"You've changed, boy," Narcissa greeted him, taking in the sight of him, and Harry could hear the rasp to her voice. It reminded him of a lady singer that Dudley had liked, and Vernon had hated:  
_You can talk to me...you can set your secrets free, baby_... [©1983 Stevie Nicks – Rock a Little]

Harry didn't know what to say. _Woman, you look like hell..._came to mind, though. But there was still an underlying grace in how she moved, and faint reminders of her fading beauty.

Harry remembered Bellatrix again.

"I know, you don't have to say it," Narcissa replied, touching her hair. "Won't you come in? Thank you for coming." She looked him over, her eyes lingering on the wand. Harry knew that she knew. "You won't need that. _You've _gotDraco's wand, Lucius' was destroyed – of course, _you know_, yours destroyed it – and Draco lost mine in the battle. We're not allowed wands, though; part of our probation. Explains the mess, you see, we've no wands, and no Elf. I'm sorry. Would you like a drink? We have tea...or wine? Plenty of wine," her voice trailed off as she led him to the drawing room.

Harry remembered the room's dark purple walls, but now the portraits were all vacant. Dust covered much of the furnishings, and the crystal chandelier lay shattered in the middle of the floor. The long dining table was still set, as they passed it, but the plates were dusty and the goblets all dry. In the far corner, a grand piano lay shattered, a mess of mahogany splinters and broken ivory. It seemed just as he'd left it, as _they'd_ left it – perhaps in a rush?

Hadn't she even closed the door behind them?

"Mr. Potter will probably think you're out to poison him, dear," Lucius Malfoy offered from his chair near the ornate marble fireplace. Harry remembered that as well, but now the marble was cracked, the large leather chair torn as if clawed by some beast.

He remembered Greyback.

"I swallowed a bezoar before I came in, sir," Harry tried to joke, tried to give him some dignity.

Lucius looked him over. He looked worse than his wife. Before Harry now sat a broken man, who had once tried to pawn off a Horcrux on Ginny, his love. Surely Lucius had known what he was doing, Harry thought? How could he not know? Surely he'd been acting on orders? This was the man who'd gotten Dumbledore sacked in Second Year, treated Dobby so badly, and had threatened Harry when he'd set the Elf free by tricking Lucius into handing him a dirty sock in the ruined diary. This was the man who'd been at the graveyard in Little Hangleton, the man who'd sworn to Voldemort that he'd never given up, or forgotten the old ways. This was the man who had been in Borgin & Burkes, dealing in Dark Objects. This was the man who'd attacked him and his friends at the Ministry during Fifth Year.

"Mr. Malfoy, I..."

"_Why_ are you here, in _my_ house, such as it is, _Potter_?" Malfoy demanded. He spat Harry's last name. "You have the gall to hold my own son's wand against me?"

"I came to return it, sir," Harry decided to be tactful, although he could feel the heat coming off of his own ears. He thought of Ron. Ron and he had both saved Draco's life that night. Just as Narcissa had saved his.

_That _was why he was there, he reminded himself.

"You look ridiculous in that outfit. Playing Auror, are we?" Lucius laughed.

"Thank you, I like it. And I do _not _play, sir" Harry retorted coldly.

"More likely, you have come to gloat," Lucius retorted, but he did pour a goblet of dark, red wine and offered it to Harry. "Or if you like, mine? It's not poisoned, Potter. I do still retain a bit of a sense of humor." He offered his own new goblet. Harry accepted the former and drank. "Trust?" Lucius seemed taken.

"A bit of a gift from Dolores Umbridge," Harry held out his scarred hand. "You see, sir, when someone is lying to me, the phrase 'I must not tell lies' that's cut into my flesh by an old Curse of hers begins to burn. It's fine now," Harry bluffed him, wishing he _had_ taken a bezoar.

"Oh, you two _cocks_ can stop strutting now," Narcissa snorted, "Merlin's beard, you _stupid _man!" She snapped at her husband, "You have no idea, _do_ you? NONE!"

"You've been listening to that _sister_ of yours..."

"YES! I have!" Narcissa cut across _him _this time, "And I'll have you know that Harry is the _only_ reason that we're not all in Azkaban _prison_ right now!"

"Actually, Madame Malfoy..."

"Call me Narcissa, Harry," she interrupted, pouring herself some wine. Harry thought she might have had enough already. He looked around, wondering where Draco was. Sneaking up to bludgeon him with a candlestick, perhaps? No, not Draco's style...

"_Actually_," Harry started again, "You're partly right. I have intervened with the Wizengamot and the Minister, on your behalf." He studied his wine. "This is really excellent, sir."

"We don't need your pity, _Potter_," Lucius snarled.

"How about a maid, then?" Harry retorted hotly, putting down his goblet. "Or a low budget Elf? I could send Kreacher?" He dug in, suddenly feeling the need to hurt this man, who would have – who _had_ – hurt so many others. He flicked Draco's wand, summoning a new bottle of wine. This one was a hard white wine, chilled in the cellar that Harry remembered all too well. Ollivander, Luna, Griphook, Dean, Dobby...

"Oh, _good_ choice," Narcissa offered her goblet. Harry poured. They drank. _She's coming unhinged, _he thought. _Where the hell is Draco?_

Harry went on. "Oh, but you do, Malfoy," he dropped his manners, "You see, the Ministry is out to seize Death Eater assets. Why, just the other day, they moved all of Jugson's holdings to Dennis Creevey. I know Voldemort had no use for money, Malfoy, and other than groceries, he wouldn't have touched your gold. But the_ Ministry _will! They're out for retribution, Malfoy, and the only thing standing between you and total financial ruination – to say NOTHING of prison time – is ME! So you listen to me, and you listen good, you rat bastard!"

"You _dare_?!" Lucius snapped.

Harry whipped Draco's wand at him, the best insult he could think of. "I could _kill_ you where you sit, Malfoy, and no jury in the world would convict me! Your son's wand, returned gracefully, and used on you – the father who ruined his life – by the son whose life he'd ruined? They'd _believe_ it, Malfoy, trust me. I could get away with murder!"

Narcissa dropped her goblet, the crystal shattering on the flagstones.

"But out of respect for Andromeda, Teddy, and yes, for your wife, I would not," Harry continued, "The House of Black has torn itself apart over this Blood-status hysteria, and I will have no part of damaging it further!"

"Out of respect – for – my – _wife_?!" Lucius laughed. "Now_ why_ would anyone have _any_ respect for _her_?"

Harry felt his blood beginning to boil.

"Because your wife is the bravest, most loyal, selfless woman I have met in many years," Harry snarled, "Next to Molly Weasley! You see, Malfoy, I was raised by moronic filth! Oh, the Muggles were clean, well to do, proper, by their standards, you see. But I know class when I see it, and that _is_ your wife! Do _not_ belittle her in front of me! But that's part of why I'm here, too! You see, I owe Draco a debt, just as he owes me."

"_You _owe Draco?" Narcissa wondered. "And I...what have _I_ done for you, Harry?" She was genuinely curious.

"That night in the forest, when you said I was dead? You asked if Draco was alive? 'Is he in the castle?' Remember? And I whispered 'yes'. You _lied_ to Voldemort," they shuddered at the name, "And in doing so, you cast yourself between him and me, for Draco's sake. You unleashed the same magic that my mother did – a mother offering up her life for her baby. In doing so, you not only protected Draco, but me as well! You turned the tide of the battle, Narcissa, and I am grateful."

"She only did it for Draco, and to save her own skin!" Lucius disagreed, and with a flick of his wrist, Harry knocked him out of his chair.

"You were warned!" He growled, as Lucius righted himself. "I'm sorry," he offered to her, "But I had to make sure you knew what you'd done, and how many lives you probably saved. I will plead this to the Ministry, Narcissa, and if I have to, _beg_ for clemency. I do this for Andromeda, and to repay part of my debt, however."

"What is the debt you speak of, then?" Narcissa hiccuped, "And Draco?"

"Yes, Draco. Where is he?" Harry had to ask.

"Upstairs, in bed. He's taken with a bout of melancholia, I'm afraid. Perhaps even a nervous collapse? I've asked for a Healer, but they're all too busy. I don't suppose _we_ rate care, do we?" Narcissa sniffed.

Harry pulled his holly wand and sent his Stag to Madame Pomfrey. "Is your Floo on?"

"Yes, but we've no powder," Narcissa replied.

"They can get in, but we can't get out, you see," Lucius supplied, having righted his ruined chair and refilled his wine.

"Draco will receive care," Harry assured her. "As for the debt, you see, about seven years ago, Draco helped me. He helped me to see what this world, our world, is really like. I so wanted to be his friend. You know, he was the first magical child I ever met? I thought, wow, a boy like me! But he wasn't. He was my polar opposite, in fact. He was rude to Hagrid, the first person in the world to show me kindness. Then he was vicious to Ron, the first friend I'd ever had. I'd have taken his hand that day, had he only said two words.  
"All he had to say was 'I'm sorry.' Instead, Draco set me on the path that I have now completed," Harry explained in a very hard, cold tone, "He showed me the difference between right and wrong. But again, at the Battle, he did something that surprised me. You see, he could have killed me, I think. But he held off Crabbe and Goyle, who so wanted to. And he failed to kill Dumbledore. Yes, I know about that, too," he took in the startled looks on their faces.  
"I know all about it. But he did _disarm_ him, thus taking mastery of the Elder Wand. I think, without Draco's help, I would not have been able to kill Voldemort," Harry paused, wondering if he should have mentioned that.

"What a tale of wonder!" Lucius laughed again, this time, pouring himself some Firewhiskey. "My son, master of the Elder Wand?"

Just then, Madame Pomfrey arrived via Floo, soiling her whites. She did not look happy.

"Draco is upstairs," Harry pointed, "Somewhere?"

"I'll find him," Madame Pomfrey pulled her wand, "Any enchantments in place?"

Narcissa shook her head. "All but the Concealments to hide us from Muggles are gone, stripped away by the Aurors," she sighed. "Would you like some wine?"

Madame Pomfrey declined and started up the stairs.

"Third floor, to the left, fifth door!" Narcissa called after her.

"Elder Wand," Lucius laughed again, getting a bit gone in the drink, "A child's fairy story! Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, yes, with an old and well trained wand. That is all. The Dark Lord was a fool!" Lucius looked crazed, "For believing such!"

"But Draco said you had a Cloak?" Narcissa asked in wonder.

Harry nodded. "My father's, ma'am.  
"Malfoy," Harry turned back to him, "I'm willing to overlook your sins for your wife's sake. For you son's sake. I'm even willing to accept that you were duped into following Voldemort the first time, and coerced the second time. Draco told us he'd be killed, that you'd be killed, if you stepped out of line. I can appreciate trying to save your parents, and certainly trying to save your child. In fact, I have recently taken custody of an orphaned magical child, because I gave my _word_," Harry informed them. "I can forgive many things, Malfoy, but what I cannot – what I _will_ NOT forgive – is any further attempt to harm me or mine! You have all the reason in the world to hate me, and I confess that I have no lost love for you. What I do, I do for these others, and to pay my debts."

"How very Slytherin of you," Lucius grinned. He poured another whiskey. "A toast! To the great Harry Potter!" He handed him the glass.

Harry poured it on the floor.

"Had I not _pleaded _with that bloody, sodding Hat, it _would _have put me in Slytherin!" Harry then informed him. "Every now and then, I suppose, my Slytherin side shows!"

"But isn't this all so typically _Gryffindor_ of you?" Lucius burped. "Par'n me!"

"I was told I was a fool for coming here, Malfoy," Harry sighed, "But I think not. I'll do my best, as I said, to plead for your family. I cannot live with it, knowing that I owe _you_! When I leave here tonight, my debt to Narcissa and Draco will be paid, and _they_ will have the credit that I _let_ you live!" He glared at Lucius. "I want my Godson, Teddy, to know his decent and noble Auntie, and for Andromeda to not suffer the loss of her sister, the remainder of her family."

Narcissa began to weep. She grabbed a dirty doily from a table, spilling a vase of dry, dead flowers, and fled the room.

"Is she all right?" Madame Pomfrey asked, descending the stairs.

"No," Harry answered. "The poor woman's on the verge of an hysterical breakdown, I wonder? Can you help her?"

Madame Pomfrey nodded. "I've stabilized Draco, for now. He'll need further treatments, of course. He's already collapsed, Harry. I'm afraid he may be unhinged already. The stress of all this was just too much. It's broken him. He was sobbing like a child when I left him. I've given him some potion, so if you want to talk to him, you have about fifteen minutes."

"Malfoooooys do not cryyyyy," Lucius slurred.

"Draco _did,_ in Sixth Year," Harry informed him, as he started up the stairs. He looked back to see Lucius nodding in his chair.

He was a very tempting target.

"They _do _get drunk and pass out, though," Madame Pomfrey sniffed in disgust, as she went in pursuit of Narcissa.

At the fifth door, Harry stopped. Out the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a shape. He snapped his head around quickly to see a little boy dressed all in white disappear around a corner. "Homenium Revellio," he cast the charm with Draco's wand.

Nothing.

"Accio, boy!"

Nothing, again.

Somewhere, from deep in the manor's deserted and dirty halls, a child screamed.

Again, he cast the spells in desperation, his heart speeding up. "But the enchantments are all gone?" He said to himself.

Shaking his head, he rapped on Draco's door.

"Mummy?" Draco whimpered.

"Not quite," Harry replied, as he went on in.

The bedroom was enormous for one person, Harry thought. It was larger than he remembered the Slytherin Common Room being, with its own fireplace at the far end. The walls were covered in antique tapestries, all with Slytherin themes, and mixed native stones showed where there were none. A large brass chandelier hung from the ceiling, bedecked in lead crystal. There were divans, a few armchairs, a desk larger than Vernon Dursley's in his den, and another comfortable looking chair at it. The floors were covered in green and silver plush carpets, and various knick-knacks and odd childhood treasures lined the shelves. A Nimbus 2001 broomstick stood in the corner of the room, near the bed. It was dusty and looked abused. Black curtains blocked the windows. Many books lined a large and finely carved bookcase headboard of the king sized bed, which was covered by a fine and expensive looking comforter.

In that bed lay Draco Malfoy.

Despite the covers, and the sweat of his head, Draco shivered in the warm room. His gray eyes were glazed, and the potions bottle from Madame Pomfrey lay half-spilled on the comforter.

"Draco, did you drink your medicine?" Harry asked neutrally.

"Tastes bad!" Draco whined, not recognizing him. "I don't like it!"

"You need to take it all, Draco," Harry told him, picking up the bottle. It was a potent tranquilizer/sleeping combination. He tipped the remainder into Draco's mouth, then cast Aquamenti and conjured a cup. Draco drank, then collapsed back onto his pillow. Harry took note of his fine silk pyjamas and snorted.

"I'm took sick to go to school," Draco whined again.

"I know," Harry felt just a twinge of compassion for him then.

But it passed as quickly as it had come.

"Draco, listen to me," Harry said to him. He grabbed his chin, turning his head to face him. "_Look_ at me!"

Draco opened his eyes and screamed.

"_**He**_ let you in here, didn't he?" Draco gasped, panting, near to hyperventilating.

"Who?"

"HIM!" Draco exclaimed, glancing wildly about the room. "The boy! He sneaks around, taunting me! Little bastard! Or did _you_ let **him** in, _**Potter**_?" He squeaked, as he seemed to become lucid for a moment.

"I saw him," Harry nodded, holding up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Who is he?"

"Don't humor me, Potter! You think me mad!" Draco snapped, clutching at his blankets.

"I _saw_ him, Draco," Harry repeated.

"Ah! We're on a first-name basis, Harry?" Draco grinned, but there was no sparkle in his colorless eyes, Harry noted. No maliciousness, either, as he'd come to know and hate.

He'd hated Draco Malfoy for so long that he wasn't sure that he knew what else to feel for him. The hatred fit like a well-worn and favorite shirt, or perhaps a good old pair of boots. One hated to discard them, even when they were battered and ripped, useless...

"Draco, you don't know a strange boy running amok in your house?" Harry asked, genuinely concerned for this mysterious boy's welfare.

"He may be a ghost, if you care," Draco shrugged, "I don't know him. But he knows me. He calls me … he calls me..." Draco hesitated.

"What, then?"

"Did you see Mummy, Harry?" Draco then changed tracks, his voice sounding childish. "Mummy's ill. Did the doctor see her yet? Nice lady, isn't she?"

_He's fucking __**gone**_, Harry thought, _Bring the nets!_

Harry felt eyes on his back.

Brandishing the holly wand, he spun around, his coat flying about him.

A young boy, perhaps twelve or thirteen stood in the doorway. He was wearing a new Hogwarts uniform, Slytherin, and he was wet and looked tired. His black hair was soaked flat, his cloak dripping, and his shoes a bit muddy. Harry stared at him in shock.

The boy had green eyes, slightly almond shaped, behind rectangular black framed glasses. One eye, the left, was unnaturally green. The left side of his face was scarred – no, Harry realized – smooth, as if healed from a burn.

Harry was staring at himself.

"But there's no scar on his forehead?" Harry gasped.

"You see him, don't you?" Draco gasped anxiously, grasping Harry's arm. "Make him go away, Harry! I'll do _anything_, I promise! I'll be good! Just make him go AWAY!" Draco cried desperately.

And while Harry stared, but Draco didn't, the first boy he'd seen walked up beside the dark-haired one. This boy had white-blond hair, and looked just like Draco.

But his eyes were a crystal blue color.

"Asp!" He greeted the darker boy, "Wondered when you'd show up!"

"Sting!" the darker boy smiled at him, but only with the right side of his face.

As he moved, the light struck him just right to give his black hair an auburn tint in the highlights and reveal a few freckles on the bridge of his pert nose.

"Draco, does your ghostly boy have a friend?" Harry asked.

"N-no," Draco mumbled, looking away, refusing to see them.

"Don't do it, Daddy," the pale boy was now crying.

"You can't, Mr. Malfoy!" The darker boy added.

"GO AWAY!" Draco screamed again, "LEAVE ME BE!"

The boys joined hands, looking so very sad, and vanished.

"What the bloody fucking hell was that, 'Daddy'?!" Harry demanded, but then realized that Draco would have had to have fathered this child when he was like six years old. Unlikely...

"My nightmares," Draco muttered, "They must be contagious. They torment me, Harry! They whisper to me! Always whispering, always playing in the dust! Please, make them leave me alone!" Draco sobbed. "I had no choice, DON'T YOU SEE?! _**HE**_ would have killed us all, Harry!"

"**He** is dead, Draco. I've killed him," Harry reminded him. "You were there. I killed him, with _your_ wand."

And Harry held out the hawthorn wand to Draco.

Draco stared at it. Lucidity seemed to return.

"Why are you here, Potter?"

"To repay my debt, and to remind you of one you still owe, Malfoy," Harry played along. "This wand belongs to you. It may answer to me now, but it chose you. It was brought up by you, and I think it still loves you," Harry explained, feeling that he was somehow right. He shoved the wand at Draco.

Draco reluctantly took it.

"B-but I'm not allowed?" He breathed, clutching it like a precious gem. He stared at it. "It feels different?"

"Just a bit tempered, and more worn," Harry explained, sitting down on the edge of the bed at last.

"Make yourself at home, Potter, or are you jumping the fence like that little Irish bum-bandit?" Draco snickered.

"You _wish_," Harry rolled his eyes. "Malfoy, you're not well. Put the wand down, now." He reached into his breast pocket, just in case. "I have an itch, all right?" He lied, scratching anyway.

"Scared, Potter?" He snickered, sounding like the spoiled child that he'd once been...

_Before he grew up, just like the rest of us,_ Harry thought. _Too hard, too fast, and instead, it broke him! _He then recalled Neville's cliched words. No, Draco Malfoy had not been made stronger by what had failed to kill him.

"Malfoy, I came to return your wand, and to say thank you for all you did," Harry explained, "And to repay a debt to your mother. She's a fine lady, Draco," his voice softened. "And to repay a debt to _you_." Draco cocked his head in confusion. "Thank you for belittling Hagrid and Ron, and scaring me away from Slytherin. Thank you for tormenting us, keeping us lively, and making us the trio we are today. But most of all, thank you for lying to them and saving our lives when we were captured here. All we are, all we did, we owe to _you_. That debt is now paid in full, my friend."

Harry Potter offered Draco Malfoy his hand.

Draco turned the whiter shade of pale. [©1967-Procol Harum]

But he did not accept Harry's hand.

"You owe Ron, one, though, which I think I can rightfully claim," Harry just had to tell him.

"I?! _I_ owe WEASLEY?!" Draco laughed. "How?"

"For saving your life on the stairs, right before he punched you and knocked you out! When that one Death Eater was considering killing you? Ron saved your life, I wonder?" Harry pondered it. "Then he saved me, but I've saved him, although you saved us," He ticked it off on his fingers. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you owe it to me, Malfoy. It's a confusing mess, though, what? Us all saving each other? I thought we hated each other?" He dug in deeper.

"And how much do you want?" Draco snorted. Then he yawned. Harry knew he didn't have long until Draco passed out again, probably for a long time.

Harry noticed a book in the headboard: **Blackeste Majickes**. "Can I borrow this?" He asked.

"That's it?"

"And your word," Harry shrugged.

"My word?" Draco asked, shivering again.

"Give me your word, and I'll leave you here with your ghosts," Harry said, "I promise. I want your word Draco," he said sweetly, "That you'll do one thing?"

"What?!"

"Improve," Harry stated with a shrug. "Be a better person. I've seen flickers of it in you, Draco," he reminded him. "Only then can _your_ debt to Ron, to me, be repaid."

Draco fell back onto his pillows again, seeming stunned.

Then, in a burst of pure maliciousness and pique, Harry tucked him in and then softly kissed his cheek. "Pity, if things had turned out a bit differently, I might have called you 'brother' in some other reality. I wanted to, seven years ago, you know. But instead, Ronald Weasley has that honour. Goodbye, Draco!"

He then got up to go.

Draco stared at the ceiling, his eyes glazing over.

As Harry closed the door, he heard Draco scream.

Harry smiled.

Alone, he walked down the long corridor and descended the stairs.

He saw no ghosts.

"I've moved her to St. Mungo's," Madame Pomfrey informed him. "Poor woman. She told me the most fantastic tale of betraying Voldemort?"

"It's true," Harry shrugged. "Thank you."

"No wards, then?"

"None," Harry nodded.

"I'll be back to tend to Draco tomorrow night," She added, glaring at a snoring Lucius. Then she turned and apparated away.

On his way to the front door, Harry reached out his hand and knocked over an antique vase. It shattered into dust all over the floor. "Hope that wasn't a relative," he muttered, walking on down the way in the fading evening sunlight. It was warm on his face, and he thought he'd like to see a white peacock.

He was almost to the gate when the air went cold. It was a familiar feeling, and Harry pulled the Elder Wand at once.

But the words died on his lips as he saw the raggedy black shape, somewhat like the Muggle version of the fabled Grim Reaper, soaring along towards Malfoy Manor. It ignored him completely, and Harry knew that it must have been attracted to all the despair and sadness radiating from the place.

A rogue Dementor.

He saw it descend upon the house, circling, then forcing its way in through a third floor window.

"I wonder if Draco can cast a Patronus?" Harry said aloud, his eyes searching the skies for more of them.

But there was just the one.

One was enough.

Lucius had no wand, and was passed out.

Narcissa was gone.

And Draco?

Harry shrugged, turning on the spot and twisting away into the darkness of apparation.

In the wake of the puff of black smoke he left behind, a peacock called out, "HELP!" in it's oddly human, avian voice.

Then Malfoy Manor was silent, alone, cloaked in hopelessness.

Dinner that evening was assorted chicken parts in a variety of sauces, and there seemed to be a war going on between Dennis Creevey and Ron Weasley. For Dennis, it was a losing battle, though, as Ron's appetite was legendary. Wings in buffalo sauce with bleu cheese, however, was enough to make Dennis give him a run for it.

"You'll both be sick!" Molly exclaimed.

"He started it, Mum!" Ron mumbled around a mouthful.

"Honestly," Hermione sighed, looking up to see Harry coming down the aisle.

_He was covered in blood, his nose broken and hastily healed by Luna. He was rumpled, and looked very sore. Ron was furiously eating... _

"How were the Malfoys?" She said curtly, coming back to herself quickly.

"Lucius was drunk, Narcissa's in hospital, and Draco's had a nervous collapse, perhaps gone mad," Harry shrugged, softly smacking Dennis' hand away from the chicken platter while counting bones on his plate. "You've had enough!"

"Yes, sir," Dennis sighed.

"And?" Mrs. Weasley wondered.

"Poppy came, it doesn't look good, though," Harry went on, "Although I promised I'd stand up for them, after what she did."

"You're a better man than I, Harry," Arthur told him, snatching the dip. "Isn't this an American Muggle idea?"

"Dad!" Ron groaned, "You know what hot stuff does to you!"

"I was afraid you weren't coming back," Dennis said to Harry, so that no one would hear. Harry hugged him around the shoulders, as desserts began to appear – fruit tarts with cream. Dennis bit into one, cherry syrup running down his chin and splattering on his yellow hoodie. Harry blinked.

"Canon left it," Dennis explained, "Hufflepuff, Muggleborn, like me? Like, only, not a Gryffindor, you know? His dad named him after a camera. Cool, huh?" He grinned.

"So is Mr. Filch – _Argus_," Harry told him. Dennis smiled wider, and Harry ruffled his hair. "So what did you do today, kid?"

Dennis went into it all, waving his half-eaten tart about. Ron bit into one, squirting blueberry filling out the back and all over Dennis. It was enormously funny as Mrs. Weasley cleaned them off.

"We had a lovely time, Harry," she patted his arm, "Dennis had all these wonderful ideas for a store for George, you see!"

"Check your bedsheets tonight," Ron warned them all.

Harry sniffed. He looked over at Neville and Ernie Macmillan. "It was a hard day!" Ernie protested.

"Ernie, aren't your folks all right?" Hermione asked, and Ernie nodded.

"Then go home!" Harry laughed.

"Not while there's all this work to be done!" Ernie gasped in mock shock.

"So Hufflepuffy of him," Ron shook his head.

"I helped!" Dennis added.

"No one throws Dragon Dung Fertilizer like Dennis," Neville agreed.

"_That's _what I smell!" Harry smirked at him, looking around. "Where's Andromeda?"

"She went home early with Teddy, it's ah...almost his time of the month," Ginny struggled to find a way to say it.

"Oh," Harry sighed.

"It's OK, Harry, you got me!" Dennis reminded him.

"Murder me, Ernie!" Ron begged him. "You say that Canon kid went home?" Dennis nodded. "Why don't you take his hoodie back to him, then?"

"Ha ha," Dennis sneered at him, "That was so funny, I fergot ter laugh!"

For a boy who'd just lost his parents, Harry thought, Dennis was taking it very well. _Too well,_ he fretted.

Back in Gryffindor Tower, after Dennis had been thoroughly bathed and gotten ready for bed, they all did a bedcheck. No WWW Bedwetter Sheets were found, though.

Dean Thomas then came in, and he looked awful. "No more progress," he informed them, grabbing up some clothes to change.

"No, Dean," Harry said, "You've haven't moved from his bedside, and you need rest. You're no good to him if you go down from exhaustion."

"But...?"

"Don't make me stun you, Dean," Harry warned him. Dean closed his curtains with a huff.

"Goodnight. Thanks, Harry, you're right," he said a few minutes later.

Ron rolled his eyes as Harry put Dennis to bed. "Don't let him keep the bottle, it'll rot his teeth," he suggested. Harry ignored him. He hugged the boy goodnight, but Dennis held onto him for an awkwardly long time. Harry tucked him in, kissed his forehead, and closed the curtains. A few seconds later, and the Somnolence Charm on his pillow took him.

"Ron?"

"Yes?"

"Don't ever make fun of my child again," Harry warned him, pointing at Dennis' bed. "That poor kid's lost everything! Have a little compassion!"

"I was _joking_!" Ron protested. "And seriously, Harry? What _is_ it with you? First Dennis, now what? You going to bring Malfoy home with you?"

Harry shrugged. "Draco and I are even now," He said darkly, as he sat down on his bed and picked up a Quidditch magazine. "Shite, this is Ginny's issue," he mumbled, as he got up.

"Trousers, maybe?" Ron reminded him, glaring. Harry threw some on, but it was quite a while before he came back.

The next morning, the breakfast table was abuzz with everyone having their nose in a copy of _**The Daily Prophet**_. As Harry sat down, a school owl dropped a copy for him. He instantly saw what the buzz was all about. The headline read:

**MURDER AT MALFOY MANOR!  
The Malfoy Line Goes Extinct  
by  
Rita Skeeter**

Ministry officials were shocked to report this morning that two are dead, in what appears to be a murder/suicide at Malfoy Manor. The deceased have been identified as Lucius Malfoy, former Death Eater – and his only son, Draco Malfoy, also a former Death Eater.  
With no brothers, for either, and Draco having no sons, this is the end of the Malfoy line, stretching back as far as our history is recorded.  
Narcissa Malfoy, nee Black, had been admitted to St. Mungo's Hospital only hours before this tragedy. Mrs. Malfoy had, doctors state, suffered a nervous collapse the evening before and has not yet regained consciousness.  
When she was admitted, however, Mrs. Malfoy claimed that Harry Potter was then in her home, visiting with Draco. She reported that Madame Poppy Pomfrey of Hogwarts had also been there to treat Draco, the boy having suffered a nervous collapse as well, with a bout of melancholia, and having taken to his bed since his arraignment for war crimes.  
"He'd taken a very sedating potion when I left him," Madame Pomfrey told this reporter. "Potter was downstairs at the time, chatting and drinking wine with Draco's parents. All seemed well to me."  
While Mrs. Malfoy remains unconscious and under treatment, we can only wonder how a woman in such an already-damaged state will react to the news that her family is gone.  
"It looks as if Draco killed his father with the Killing Curse, and then turned his wand on himself," Auror N. Proudfoot reports. "What we can't figure out, since the Malfoys were banned from having wands while on house arrest, is how Draco procured one?"  
Mr. Garrick Ollivander, upon being presented with the alleged murder weapon, had this to say:  
"Hawthorn, ten inches, unicorn hair, reasonably pliant.  
This WAS the wand of Draco Malfoy."  
Priori Incantatum has revealed that the last spells the wand cast were indeed the Killing Curse, a laundry charm, and a personal grooming charm. There was also evidence of a failed Patronus Charm, which, school records indicate, Draco Malfoy never learned to perform.  
This begs the questions: was he trying to send a message, or drive off a Dementor?  
"I saw no evidence of Dementors when I was there," Madame Pomfrey states, "He was simply depressed."  
The question also remains, despite Ollivander's analysis, _how did Draco Malfoy get his wand back_?  
We must also wonder, since a wand will not kill its Master, how was Draco able to take his own life with his own wand, then?  
"Harry Potter disarmed him at his home, before the fight," Gregory Goyle tells this paper, "So Potter had the wand. I heard, but I never saw it, that Potter used Malfoy's wand to kill You-Know-Who! Then again, he was stealing everybody's wands, so who knows which he had? Why didn't he use his?"  
(Gregory Goyle is currently held awaiting trial for use of Unforgivable Curses, attempted murder of Hermione Granger, and involvement in several other Death Eater activities. He is also undergoing psychiatric evaluation for issues related to the loss of his best friend, Vincent Crabbe in the battle, supposedly at the hands of Harry Potter.)  
Harry Potter has since been unavailable for comment, but sources close to this reporter indicate that this may be because Mr. Potter has gone into the adoption business. Upon the death of Auror Dora Tonks and Remus Lupin – former professor at Hogwarts and an unemployable werewolf – Potter has taken part-time custody of his baby godson, Teddy R. Lupin after his parents also died in the war. In another shocking development, it has come out that Mr. Potter has also become legal guardian to one Dennis R. Creevey, Fifth Year (next) Gryffindor, who recently lost both of his parents and only brother in the war.  
However, according to Muggle traffic reports, Alden and Naomi Creevey were killed by a drunk driver, in a taxi, along with their driver, just outside of Penzance.  
This reporter, for one, plans to get to the truth of this matter, as the Creeveys were from Kent, and in hiding during the war for having sons of questionable Blood-status. Not that it matters to us, even if they're part Leprechaun!  
It is also interesting to note, however, that Creevey recently and successfully filed precedent-setting abuse charges against one Squire Jugson, former Death Eater and 'security guard' at Hogwarts last term. Details of this case are unavailable at this time, but with the amount of gold and other valuables deeded to the boy in the settlement, one must wonder if this is why Potter adopted him?  
So, _did_ Harry Potter give Draco Malfoy, who was sick in his bed, mentally ill, his wand back – knowing that his old nemesis might do something like this? If not, then the question remains – _who_ would give a wand to someone in this condition?  
If not Potter, then who got Draco's original wand back for him?  
Alcohol, it seems, and combined with medications, may well have been a factor in this tragedy. Let us just hope that Potter stays sober when he has the children in his care!  
This reporter, and _The Prophet_**, will continue to keep our readers advised of this developing story as more news breaks.**

"Hermione," Harry said flatly.

"I know, I _know_," Hermione waved her hand about her face as if swatting bugs.

Harry nodded. _I'll kill that lying bitch, _he thought to himself, just in case there might be a beetle scurrying about. Harry raised his holly wand. "Volucris Interneco!" He shouted, startling many people. A few bugs fell dead in the Hall. "Sorry!" He offered loudly, "Mosquitos!" With another flick of his wand, the windows all closed.

Hermione and Ron stared at him in shock.

"Muffliato!" Hermione cast the charm. "Harry, that would have KILLED her, if she's in here in her Animagus form!"

"**So what**? I'm beyond DONE with that lying bitch," Harry said aloud, looking around the floor. "See any beetles?"

"She _was_ warned, once," Ron reminded her.

"What have you got against bugs, Harry?" Luna asked, leaning over from the Ravenclaw table and into the Charm.

"Luna, has your dad repaired his presses yet?" Harry asked with a smile.

"No, why?"

"Call him and tell him I'm buying you new ones," Harry grinned wickedly at her. "And have I got a _story _for him!"

"You're gonna defend your case in **_The Quibbler_**?" Ron gasped.

"H-Harry?" A small voice then asked, and Harry felt a tug to his sleeve.

Dennis had a newspaper.

"You said...m-my dad shot th-that man?" Dennis sniffled, biting back tears.

"He did, Denny, he _did_!" Harry assured him, pulling him into a hug. "That Rita Skeeter, you remember her? Calling me 'The Boy Who Lies'? She's done this before, you know. Up to her old tricks again, she is! God, I'm sorry she's hurt you now, son. You've been through enough!" Harry lied smoothly to him.

"We were in on that one," Ron whispered to Hermione, "Don't get all moral on us now!"

"I know, it's not about _Dennis_!" Hermione whispered back.

"It's rude to whisper," Luna reminded them in a sing-song tone, smiling. "Harry, I take it you want Daddy to run your side of the story?"

"You're damn right I do!" Harry declared, "And Denny's side, too! My boy isn't going to be treated like this! Next thing, she'll go after Teddy!"

"And if she does? _Then_ what?!" Hermione asked.

"Then she'll _pay_ for it," Harry answered darkly, as snow began to fall from the ceiling. "Denny, have some of those frosted mini-wheats," Harry encouraged him, wiping his face, "Get your strength up. We're going to the bank today!"

"To do what?" Ron gasped.

"You're coming too," Harry informed him. "Unless you'd rather work in the greenhouse with Neville?"

"Hey!" Neville protested.

"We're making a withdrawal," Harry said arrogantly. "We'll need Extension Charmed rucksacks, anti-grav charms, and find Bill. We'll probably need some Curse-Breaking done on Jugson's vault."

"Harry, need I remind you that the Goblins are still a bit pissy with you?" Hermione reminded him.

"I _hope_ they are," Harry leered at her.

"Harry?" Dean asked, just coming in and grabbing up something before it could vanish, "What's all the fuss?"

Ron gave him a paper to read while he ate.

"Harry, did you see any Dementors?" Dean asked.

"If I had, do you think I would have _let them in_?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

No one answered him.

"'course not!" Dennis finally piped up, "Harry's got a wicked-big Patronus! He'd have gave that Dementor what-for!" Dennis went on, smiling. He then whipped his wand out and looked at Harry. Harry smiled at him, nodding.

"Don't be surprised if you get mist," Harry warned him.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Dennis crowed, as a wolf shot out the end of his wand and ran out of the Hall.

Just outside the doors, someone screamed. Something crashed.

"Whoops!" Dennis snickered.

And he'd been smiling at Harry when he'd cast the Charm.


	6. Chapter 6-Retrospect

**Dark Mirror X**

**6**

**Retrospect**

"_**You'd better take off your homburg, 'cause your overcoat...is too long."-©Procol Harum**_

"Hermione, we need to talk," Ginny was saying, as the girls got ready to head down to breakfast that next day. She picked up the newspaper, pointing to the headline.

Hermione only nodded, flicking her wand about the room. When she was finally satisfied, she turned. Her countenance was grim. "Not here. Later."

In the Great Hall, they waved to Headmistress McGonagall and the teachers at the high table, then joined Neville, Dean and Ron. Luna and Ernie came over as well, they having hung about to help with the repairs. Many of the other students had gone home in the past few days, and more were slated to leave that day.

"We need to talk," Hermione repeated to Neville, slipping Ginny's paper clipping up out of her pocket.

"Could you lot follow me, here in a bit?" Neville asked.

Everyone looked at him and nodded. After breakfast, they all followed Neville to the other side of the new greenhouse, well away from all the activity.

"What's going on here?" Ernie Macmillan asked. "Where's Harry?"

"Why we out here?" Dean asked.

"Harry's _why_ we're here," Neville explained. "Dennis had a bit of a bout last night, and he had to take him to Madame Pomfrey. They're still up there. I guess losing his parents has finally hit Dennis, and hit him hard."

"You didn't bring us out to the greenhouse to talk about just Dennis," Ron nodded seriously, then glanced at Ernie, "I think I _know_ why. You lot think so, too, don't you?" He pulled the newspaper page from his pocket, as he'd saved one too.

Neville nodded. "I'm worried about him," Neville explained. "I came out here because Harry was never into Herbology, and he's not been here but for once, to see Andromeda. Then he left. It's safe to talk here. I can't explain it all to you lot, not _all_ of you. But there's signs here that something isn't _right _with Harry. We've got to keep an eye on him, watch for things, for clues. Got that?"

"What's up with that?" Ernie asked. "Why this sneaking around?"

"We're gonna spy on Harry?" Dean asked.

"Why?!" Ernie repeated, lost.

"So do we let him in on it?" Ron asked.

"I think we should," Hermione reasoned. "He was involved, after all, even if his connection is indirect."

Luna nodded, reaching down to pick a mushroom and nibble it. "Oh, look! A bitter bolete," she observed, "You all think Harry's going mad, don't you, Neville?" She asked clinically. "What?" She looked at all of them. "I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he did? Would you?"

"What do you mean?" Ginny gasped.

Luna shrugged again. "Well think about it, Ginny. Harry never had what we all did, growing up. No one loved him. He never got gifts, or even a simple kind word from those awful Muggles he lived with. He never had any friends, until he met you, Ron. All he ever got was hate and bile from his relatives, and spent the last ten years of his life, before we met him, that is, pining for parents he never knew. Can you imagine, growing up watching someone else getting all the best in life, while you got nothing? Then, when his godfather showed up, Harry touched off a chain of events that ended with his death. He probably blames himself for that. Me, I can't really believe Harry turned out half as well as he did."

"Especially after Sirius Black, you're right," Neville added sadly.

"Good points," Hermione agreed. "Abused children usually don't grow up to be well-adjusted adults."

Ron nodded. "With all he'd been through? They used to lock him in his room, starve him, yell at him. Dunno if they ever beat him, well, I know that lump of a cousin of his did. Add to it, he comes into our world, thinking it's all over and it's all gonna be better now – _then_ look what he got? A seven year battle with Voldy! And the weight of the world laid on his shoulders. Hell, everyone expected him to save a world that had turned on him – twice!" Ron thought about it. "It's a miracle he made it _this _far, really!"

"_Isn't_ it?" Hermione agreed, "And now it's turning on him again."

"But aren't we doing just that?" Ginny asked.

"No, we're going to watch him, and help him," Neville clarified.

"Yeah, wow! I had no idea about Harry's life! But what's up with the Creevey kid?" Ernie wondered. "Does he _like _little boys?" Ernie blushed. "Sorry, it's just weird?"

"No, trust me, Harry likes girls," Ginny smirked. Ron glared at her. "Oh, Ron, grow up!" Ginny smacked his arm, "He's one year older than me! It's perfectly fine if we snog! In fact, I might ask him to marry me!"

"Don't mess with me, Sis," Ron warned her, shuddering. "Not that I mind if Harry married you, _later_! But don't snog and tell, all right?"

"I want to have eight kids," Ginny egged him on, but Ron ignored her.

"Harry's compensating," Dean put in. "When I was little, I remember my stepdad. Hell, I never even knew he _wasn't_ my real dad until I was like ten, and I found out about magic! He'd always wanted a little boy, and he spoiled me. I'd never had my _real _dad, and I thought _Dad_ was the greatest thing. He even gave me his surname. I can see Harry doing the same thing with Dennis, pretty much. He's orphaned, and Harry's trying to give him what he wishes _he'd_ had as an orphaned boy."

"Gold makes a poor bandage," Ernie shook his head.

"Look, we're all here because we've seen...symptoms," Ron fumbled. "Last night, Harry yelled at me. Well, he more like _ordered_ me to not joke about Dennis. The look on his face was...scary," Ron confessed. "For a minute, I honestly thought he was going to Curse me, or hit me."

"No, Harry loves you, Ron," Luna offered, her expression now distant, searching the grounds to the forest nearby. Dean sniffed loudly, suppressing a laugh. "No, not like _that_! I mean like family – or at least, what _Harry_ perceives as family. And the only basis he has for comparison is _your_ family, Ron, Ginny. Is that so bad an example?"

"Well, no," Ron had to admit.

"And there _is _love there, in him," Luna went on. "You can feel it. When he holds baby Teddy, or when he sits next to Dennis, it's almost visual, it's so strong. But you're right, Ron, I'd not want to be around if he thought his children were threatened."

"But his frame of mind?" Neville reminded them, "And that story about him being at Malfoy Manor? The paper?"

"He _was _there," Hermione nodded. "Andromeda Tonks set it up with Narcissa. Harry wanted to go and see her. He's been planning it since the battle ended. That's why he sought Andromeda out here yesterday, to get a Portkey."

"I know Malfoy's wand," Ernie added. "I seen it in class enough. Hawthorn is pretty unique looking."

"Same here," Dean nodded. "He took it from Draco at the Manor when we were captured by Snatchers. It's now Harry's wand, just like the wand I won from that one Death Eater is now _mine_, although I think I'm going to trade it in."

"So _that _explains how ol' Malfoy was able to off himself, with his own wand?" Ernie nodded, shocked. "It answered to Harry?"

They all nodded.

"I never knew you couldn't kill yourself with your own wand?" Dean commented.

"Observe," Hermione pulled her wand. "My wand has not been won from me. First thing I did was replace mine, soon as I could, and this one chose me. It's vinewood, too, like my first. You can feel it, if you think hard. Think back to when it chose you at Ollivander's. _Feel it_! You know your wand is _yours_." She pointed it at her own head. "Stupefy!" She exclaimed.

Nothing happened.

"This is why, even with the Elder Wand, Voldemort could not kill Harry. A wand will not harm its rightful Master," Hermione declared. Then she stung Ron on the foot.

"What'd'ya do that fer, ya LUNATIC?!" Ron yelped, hopping on one foot.

"To make a point," Hermione replied.

"Why ME?!"

"It's always you," Ginny reminded him.

"No, it's usually _me_," Neville snorted, trying not to laugh.

Ernie was looking shocked. "Eh-eh-elder w-wand? Like the s-st-story?"

Luna patted his back. "It'll be OK, Ernest, once it all sinks in. Of course, I knew Harry's cloak was a Hallow when I first heard of it." Everyone gave her their usual look.

"All that being what it is," Ginny rolled her eyes, "Harry's getting...odd! And that outfit from Moody? Does he think he's an Auror now? And that awful beard?" She paused. "And just why _did_ he go and see the Malfoys?"

"Because Narcissa betrayed Voldemort," Hermione explained. "Why don't we all sit? I think some of you are going to need to." She looked seriously at them all, transfiguring a large stone into a bench. "This goes no further than us," she cast yet another Muffliato around them. "Voldemort asked her to check Harry, the night we thought he'd killed him, during the lull in the battle. Narcissa did it, and lied to him. She said Harry was dead. He wasn't, obviously."

"Why!?" Dean gasped.

"Damn, I remember that!" Ernie gasped. "I thought fer sure we were screwed!"

"She did it to save Draco, but also to save Harry and give him another chance. She wanted to end it," Ron theorized, "A mother willing to gamble her life for her baby – even if that baby _was_ Draco."

"Harry wanted to be sure the Malfoys knew that he was going to speak to the Ministry for them," Hermione went on. "_Why_, I don't know. He had to know they wouldn't appreciate it. Well, Narcissa might have, given Andromeda and Teddy now, I don't know. But I have the awful feeling he wanted to rub Draco's and Lucius' noses in it."

"You think he gave Draco his wand back...so that he'd...?" Ernie asked, pointing his finger at his head with his thumb up.

No one answered right off. Ernie had to explain the gesture to Luna.

"I have to admit," Ron confessed, "There were a couple of times when Draco had his back to me, during the Battle, that he made a _very_ tempting target. I know he and Harry didn't get on well at all, it's no secret. But to plot to murder him, or rather, cover it up? Provoke him into suicide?"

"I can't accept that hypothesis," Neville shook his head.

"To be honest, I hated him," Ron agreed. "But I couldn't really murder him. I think all the envy and hate I had for him was because really, I thought he was kinda pathetic."

"The fact is, and the newspapers will deduce it eventually," Hermione said, "Harry won Draco's wand. He fought Voldemort with it, in front of us all. Everyone saw it. Anyone who knows Draco knows it. Harry was owner of that wand. Then that same wand shows up in Malfoy Manor in Draco's hand again that night, and Lucius and Draco end up dead. Conclusions? What else can you deduce? The only logical conclusion is that Harry gave it back to him, freely, without Draco winning it."

"And that talk of evidence of a Patronus Charm?" Dean asked. "Who would Draco be trying to contact? No wand all this time, knowing how they all felt about him after the war, and he wanted to call someone? Who'd talk to him?"

"Harry," Neville mused. "You gotta admit, Harry visits the Malfoys, two end up dead and one ends up in the mental ward. It doesn't look good."

"But you can't say he _planned_ it? I mean, he didn't hold the wand to Draco's head, now, did he?" Ernie asked.

"Priori Incantatum doesn't tell you WHO fired the Curse, only that the wand _did_ it," Luna reminded him.

"True," Ron agreed.

"You can't seriously be thinking that Harry _killed_ them?" Dean gasped, "Ron, he's your best mate?!"

"Yes, he is," Ron agreed, "But I'm just a bit afraid of him right now. Or, I guess, afraid _for_ him?"

"And what's with the bug killing charm?" Ginny asked.

They all looked at Luna and Ernie.

"This goes no further," Ron warned them. "You're about to hear some pretty heavy stuff." They nodded at him. "Rita Skeeter doesn't like Harry, and she came through the war pretty much untouched. You all know he hates her?" They nodded. "Then this story that just ran about him and Malfoy, and Dennis. Well, there's stuff in there she couldn't have known, unless she had a spy. The charm to kill bugs was because," Ron paused. "She's an unregistered Animagus. She's a beetle. We found that out in our Fourth Year, and Hermione was blackmailing her."

"_Fuck_ me!" Ernie gasped. "He was trying to _kill _her, if she was here?!"

"Yep," Dean smirked. "Sure looks that way. It was too cool and breezy for mosquitoes that night."

"Look, we can't just point the finger and yell 'murder' at Harry!" Ginny protested. "We have to talk to him about this!" She paused, glaring at Neville. "You think he might have the Tower, or the Hall, _bugged_? Spying on _us_? Is that why we came out here?"

"Moody _would _have," Ron nodded.

"The Carrows did, that's why I came out here," Neville said. "It _can _be done, and Harry just might do it. You never know."

"He may suspect that we suspect him," Hermione added.

"Now, are _we_ accusing him of killing the Malfoys or not?" Ernie asked again.

"No," Ron answered, looking hard at Neville, "I can't do that. But I think we all need to watch him."

"Agreed," Neville nodded, "It's obvious that something's wrong, and there's more than enough reason to think Harry might be losing it. But we're his friends, and that's what we're for!"

"I think we have to hear Harry's side of it, though," Ginny added. "I just can't accept that he'd set up the Malfoys like that!"

"Agreed," Neville nodded. "I think you're the best one for that job, Ginny."

Ron turned pink. Ginny elbowed his ribs. "Grow up!"

"But we can't deny, he _did_ cast the insect killing spell," Luna reminded them, which silenced everyone.

"What are you all doing out here?" Professor Sprout asked, as she and the ladies came around the corner.

"Looking for mushrooms!" Luna piped up, holding up her find.

"Bloody hell," Ron groaned.

"Bit early for ceps, or penny buns," Professor Sprout shook her head. "Say, nice bench! Let's keep it!" She looked them over. "Where's Potter?"

"Waiting for Madame Pomfrey to release Dennis, I think," Dean nodded.

"How's Justin?" Sprout asked, taking Dean's arm.

"No change, but he's still responsive, some," Dean sighed.

"Hang in there, kiddo," Madame Hooch encouraged him. "Just knowing you're there can be a huge help."

"I just wish I could wave my wand at him, well, _this_ piece of shit wand, and wake him up," Dean sniffed. "But this thing hates me. It's like it's got a grudge."

"Then get rid of it!" Neville smiled. "C'mon, we can go right now! Mr. Ollivander's got his nephew running the place now, while he's there part-time."

"I got no money," Dean sighed. "And I _gotta_ take my Seventh Year. Hell, I don't know anything, really."

"Bill it to Hogwarts," McGonagall suggested. "You deserve it. I don't think the Governors will dispute it. Now, who's up for helping us fill the new planting bins with soil and such?"

They all cringed, but there was no demure way to escape. All but for Dean, that was. He excused himself to head to Diagon Alley.

He stopped off at Hospital on his way, having grabbed his traveling cloak from the their room. No one was there. As he entered to tell Justin his plans, he saw Harry sitting by a bed. That bed contained Dennis.

"Harry?" Dean asked softly, glancing over at the boy next to Dennis.

"Hi, Dean," Harry replied, just as softly, watching Dean take his place next to Justin's bed. "Dennis had...had a rough night," he offered.

"I know," Dean nodded, "Sorry, but I was so beat, and my privacy charm was in place. I never heard it. How is he?"

"It's all right, you were tired," Harry sighed, rubbing his eyes. "If I'd had mine on, I'd have never heard him. I guess having a child means you don't get much rest?" He paused. "God, Dean, how can I possibly be his big brother, AND his mum and dad?"

"You can't," Dean replied, running a hand over Justin's curly hair, "All you can do, really, is try to be his Godfather, like Colin wanted. You _did_ say that, didn't you?" Dean asked. "Or Ron said you did?"

"They drove me so mad," Harry smiled wanly, "But I promised. Dean, what did you mean?"

Dean nodded. "I know about the Hallows, the Elder Wand and such. Read it in _**Beedle**_, when I came here. Doing my research, you know! I didn't wanna seem too much of a dork to the Purebloods," he rolled his eyes and laughed at himself. "You had that cloak, and then the talk of Voldemort looking for something, and such, and then we met up on the run, and that explained it all. I figured you had the Stone, too."

"I did," Harry nodded. "I...I used it, Dean. It was awful," Harry bowed his head. "I can see why the second Peverell brother killed himself."

"Did you use it for the boys?" Dean nodded at Dennis. Harry nodded slowly. "Then it's a _good_ thing, that they got to say goodbye properly," Dean added. "I think it's beautiful." He gripped Justin's hand just a bit tighter. Justin moaned, but that was it. Dean kissed his cheek, but Justin didn't respond further.

"He'll come out of it, Dean," Harry predicted. "Dennis is only sedated, and I'm just sick over this. He really broke down. He was throwing off random magic again, he was so distraught. And he'd had such a good day before, too?"

"I hope so, for Justin, I mean," Dean looked back at Harry. "I don't envy you, you know. When all this shit started, my family and me had a long talk before we split up and I disappeared. I had to go. I figured they'd be safe, once the truth came out. I think what you're feeling, Harry, is paternal instinct. You'll be a good dad, someday."

"Thanks, Dean," Harry sighed again.

"Harry, he's just sleeping," Dean reminded him. "All you can do is help him deal with it when he's awake. You sitting there all day is just going to upset _you_ more. Why don't you come to Ollivander's with me? I _hate_ this wand I captured," he snorted. "I _gotta_ have a new one. Maybe you can get Denny a present?"

"He likes that nickname," Harry nodded, sounding distracted. "You going now?" Harry asked, seeming even more distracted.

"Yes. Wanna come?" Dean invited him again.

"Sure," Harry patted Dennis' hand. "He won't wake up until late this afternoon, she said."

"How's the other boy, Avery, isn't it?" Dean wondered.

Harry nodded. "Slytherin Firstie. He's alive...she said...it's almost as if...Madame Pomfrey compared him to having his Soul sucked out by a Dementor." Dean gasped. "Of course, it's because he's retreated so far inward, that he's just 'not here'. I can't bear it, Dean, if this happens to Denny. He misses his family so very much." Harry turned to head for the door. "If this is what it does to you, mate, I'm_ glad_ I never had a real family growing up. Maybe Avery is better off, I don't know."

"Don't say that," Dean put his arm around his shoulders. "You're wearing that again?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. As they descended the stairs to the ground floor, Harry seemed to come back to himself a bit. "You know, I only ever told Ron this, Dean. When Sirius died, I really considered offing myself. I blamed myself, you know."

"You blame yourself for anyone else?" Dean asked, "Because it's not your fault, you know. I'm gonna be blunt, mate – if you think that, you're a sodding fool! It's all down to Voldemort, and that's_ that_!" He declared firmly.

"I think you're right," Harry then decided, the veil seeming to lift. "Dean, do you think Dennis might like to try Quidditch?"

"Maybe? But just remember, 'Dad', just because _you _loved it, doesn't mean your boy will," Dean advised with a smirk.

"_My _boy," Harry said whimsically. "I wonder if Teddy will?"

"Oh, give him about ten years, _would_ you?" Dean laughed, as they reached the front doors and headed down the way to apparate.

"Mr. Ollivander, are you free?" The young man at the counter called to the back.

"I'm free!" Garrick Ollivander replied, shuffling up to the front. "Mr. Potter!" He gasped, "And Mr. Thomas! So very good to see you! What can I do for you?" He studied Harry. "Nice beard!" He smirked. "What's with the overcoat?"

"It's chilly! Erm, thanks? I think?" Harry answered.

"I need to buy a new wand sir, and can you _do_ something with this one?" Dean asked, handing him the ugly dark brown wand in his hand.

Ollivander examined it, scowling. "Teak, quite dark. Heavy and durable, but stubborn – set in its ways, with a dragon heartstring core. _I_ did _not_ make this ugly wand, Mr. Thomas. But I will be happy to dispose of it for you! It is...distasteful."

"You can _do_ that?" Harry blinked.

"Of course I can!" Ollivander nodded. "I scrap prototypes all the time. They don't always work, you know. Now let me see, I remember you, Dean, yes. You were quite small, quiet," he took his hand, as if reading his palm in Divination Class. "Athletic, but artistic. A soft touch," he rummaged about under the counter. "I have something new, perhaps..." he handed Dean a dark, reddish-brown wand. "Rosewood, very hard and with a dark red-brown color, as you can see. Fragrant and closely grained. Hard to work with, but lovely with a lot of polish. Like _you_, I wonder? It's mainly used in musical instruments, piano cases and the like, tool handles, art projects, and fine furniture. This one has a Hippogriff feather at the core, from your friend, Mr. Potter! Intelligent and proud, and powerful!"

"Is _this wand _a prototype?" Harry wondered.

Ollivander blushed. "Yes!"

Harry ducked.

Dean gave it a wave, and a warm wind blew through the room, accompanied by the sounds of tinkling musical notes like some ghostly symphony. Dean smiled at the warm wand in his hand, feeling the ornate handle.

"Bill it to the school, please, sir," he said softly. "I'll take it."

"And what can I do for you, Mr. Potter?" Ollivander asked. "Oh, it's nice to have a break from sorting this mess of confiscated and lost wands from the battle! I remember each one, as if he or she were a child when they first came in," the old man sighed. "It just never ends. Breaks my heart."

"It _may_ never end, sir," Harry had to agree. "Sir, do you remember Colin Creevey? Gryffindor? About so tall?" Harry held his hand up. "Brownish hair, very excitable?"

"Maple," Ollivander nodded, "Ten and a half inches, unicorn hair. Very whippy, bendy, but not overly sappy. Red maple, I wonder? A rather big wand for a small boy. He took a picture of me," he pointed to a framed wide shot of the store hanging on the far wall. "And the strangest thing happened, when we came back and cleaned up to reopen. Everyone in the photograph was crying? Wept for days?"

"Have...have you f-found it, sir?" Harry asked, biting his lip. "You see, I've got custody of..."

"Dennis," Ollivander cut him off, "Yes, I read the paper. Poor child. Which was it, Harry? One can hardly trust that awful Skeeter woman!"

"The gun, sir," Harry lied yet again, telling himself it was all for Dennis' well-being. "Muggles and guns, you see, well the laws are complex, they're hard to get, and..."

"I see," the old man nodded. "Dennis' wand was exactly the same. In fact, the same unicorn, the same tree."

"They're so alike," Harry nodded.

"Where is the boy?"

"He's ill, sir," Harry answered. "He couldn't come."

Ollivander held up his hand. "Colin," he whispered, closing his eyes, "Colin, are you there?"

From the back room, a battered wand came floating out to his waiting hand. The tip was scorched black, the handle cracked, and there were nicks all along the shaft. Harry's eyes went wide when he saw it.

"This wand did _not_ go down without a _fight_," Ollivander studied it. "This mark," he pointed out an ugly gouge, "Was where it took a direct hit of a Killing Curse, batting it aside!" His eyes grew misty. "There is love, and _life_, yet in this wand, Mr. Potter. It cries out for its fallen Master. Can you hear it?"

Harry thought he could, a soft and musical sound not unlike that which Dean's new wand had sung for him. _Colin turned a Killing Curse? He was rubbish at disarming, but great on defensive stuff. 'There is no defense against it...' But there is - love._

"Perhaps it will be comforted by its brother wand? For it will accept no other hand," Ollivander handed it to him. As Harry took it, he saw a flash of green light. People were screaming, the night sky lit orange with fire, and the ground shaking. A shield charm...the last spell it had cast had been a shield...no..._**Reciproco**_! The word rang in Harry's head. Colin had tried to turn a curse thrown at him – turn it back at the caster. He wondered if that had been the curse that had killed him? Then he was falling...the grass was soft and wet beneath his cheek.

Harry decided that he didn't want to know as he shook his head with a gasp. He was back in the wand shoppe.

"I will polish it up and restore it," Ollivander offered. "Give me an hour, won't you?"

"Leave the gouge," Harry decided, "If you can?"

"A proud battle scar?" The old man wondered.

"Yes, so very proud," Harry answered firmly. "Thank you!"

"So, what do we do with an hour?" Dean asked, as they wandered about.

"Let's go look at broomsticks!" Harry decided. Dean laughed.

They were just turning to go in, excusing themselves through the crowd milling about. Now that things were returning to normal, Diagon Alley was once again a lively place. There were, of course, a few children ogling the broomsticks on display. A couple of them moved back, eyes wide. The children scattered.

"Look, it's him!"  
"Isn't that Thomas?"  
"Who?"  
"He was at Malfoy Manor, they say."  
"Wasn't he in it with the goblin, Griphook?"  
"Potter?"  
"Why hasn't he been arrested for what he did?"  
"You believe that rot?"

Harry and Dean pushed past them, ignoring them, and went in. A few customers left.

"Well, you got at least one supporter," Dean smirked.

"Here we go again, third time's the charm," Harry replied. "Everyone seems to think I murdered the Malfoys." He glanced at Dean. He paused. "Do _you_?"

"No, I don't, Harry," Dean admitted, "But we're worried about _you_. You don't need this all again, but you _do_ need to remember that you've got friends. You can count on us."

Dean hoped that his voice hadn't betrayed some of what he'd really felt. Of course he had suspicions, but he was still trying to fathom why Harry had given Draco his wand back. After all, the Ministry had ordered them on house arrest, and disarmed. He had to wonder if Harry might have considered what Draco would do?

"Damn, those kids were afraid of me," Harry sighed, "I didn't go through all this to scare kids!"

"Maybe it's the hat, what scared them?" Dean tried to joke.

Harry just looked at him.

"What happened to your Firebolt, anyway?" Dean changed the subject, turning and looking over some used Nimbus 2001's.

"Lost it, the night we fled Privet Drive," Harry shrugged. "Haven't seen it since. It probably broke up when it fell."

"Broomsticks _hover, _Mr. Potter, they never fall." The clerk offered. "If you lost it, as you say, it's still wandering the airways somewhere. Have you tried to summon it?"

Harry looked gobsmacked. In all the chaos, he'd never though of that.

"Where did you lose it?"

"Over Privet Drive, well, near Surrey? We were moving pretty fast?"

"About 23 miles, here to there, 37 kilometres, if you like. It could be here in minutes, if it's intact. But then again, it could have someone ON it, too!" The clerk laughed. "Quilliam, pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter! And thank you for your, ah, services!" He then checked his books. "Firebolt #124, first private sale of one, I mean, not to the leagues. Paid for by Sirius Black!"

Harry nodded politely. Anxiously, he pulled the holly wand and summed his beloved gift from Sirius. Then they went back to browsing.

"Shame what the Ministry did to Black," Quilliam commented. "Can't trust them to do anything right."

"Thank you, sir. I'd like to see something good for a small boy, well, a small fourteen year old, about so tall," Harry held out his hand again.

"Little one! I have just the thing," Quilliam replied, grabbing up a broomstick, "This is a Thunderclap, a new child's or small wizard's model, designed and charmed to enlarge with the rider until he comes of age. Filius Flitwick actually inspired it. It comes with available restriction charms on speed, homing charms, anti-fall off charms, all of which can be disable by parents, and..."

CRASH!

They all ducked as Harry's Firebolt came zooming through the front window, stopping to hover beside him. It was weathered and dirty, its tail frayed out, but very much intact. As Harry reached out a trembling hand, it moved towards him. He could feel the anticipation, the longing.

_A Firebolt, Potter?  
You told?!  
It could be from Sirius Black!  
It's not jinxed!  
How do YOU know?_

Harry had to smile at the memories. He didn't recall the exact words, but he recalled the argument. Back then, it had been such a catastrophe, McGonagall confiscating it. He was certain she'd taken a turn or two on it...She and Madame Hooch, he wondered, tearing up the town on it?

He hugged the broomstick to him. "Clean this up, would you? And I'll take the Thunderclap. No charms, please."

"He'll kill himself!" Dean gasped.

"He'll train up well," Harry decided.

"Madame P. will murder you!" Dean retorted, as Harry counted out some gold.

"I'm gonna have to go the bank eventually," Harry snorted.

"That'll be fun!" Dean predicted.

"C'mon, let's go get Colin's wand. We'll be back in...?" Harry asked.

"Oh, give me a few hours, Mr. Potter?" Quilliam asked, "Or I can bring it to you?" He grinned maniacally.

"I LIKE this guy!" Harry finally smiled. "Do that!"

As they emerged back into the sunlit street, making their way through the shoppers again, Harry tried to tune out the random bits of chatter he heard. It wasn't until he heard one phrase that he stopped in his tracks:  
"Wonder if anyone's told that poor child what he's in for now? Should find him a _real_ family, they should! Stupid Ministry! What idiot gave _him_ a child? Then again, it's just a Mudblood Gryffindor!"

Harry spun around, holly wand in hand.

"Who said that?" He demanded.

No one moved. Wishing he were more skilled at Legillimency, and making a note to study more, Harry surveyed them. "I'll have you know, _Creevey_ is an old English surname of Celtic origin, and is a shorter form of MacCreevey, meaning 'son of Reevey'. His Blood Status, as if it matters, is still being researched."

As he glared at them, Harry saw a face he almost recognized, and a younger version of it behind it. "Mr. Smith," Harry smirked. "Might have known. Plowed any Firsties while saving your own skin lately?"

"Sod off, Potter!" Zacharias Smith retorted, "Yeah, _I_ said it! So what you gonna do about it? Sic a Basilisk on me?"

Dean rolled his eyes.

"Well, now I guess we know why you wanted that little boy!" Smith laughed. "You and Thomas bringing him up nice, are you? How _is_ he?"

Harry took a step forward, ears ringing and seeing red at the insinuation. Smith drew his wand. Harry quickly disarmed him.

"So now you put the suicide curse on it?" Smith demanded, "Hand it back ter me, and hope I kill meself, like Malfoy did?"

"How _dare _you?" Harry snapped at him.

"C'mon, Potter, everyone knows how you feel about Purebloods now!" Smith said, "And Malfoy wasn't your _best_ friend in the world! I guess that makes two?"

"What does that mean?" Harry said through clenched teeth.

"Well, you pushed Crabbe into the Fiend Fyre, Goyle said?" Smith replied.

Everyone gasped, and many stepped back. Harry dropped Smith's wand on the ground, then lunged forward. He grabbed Smith the collar and pulled his fist back to strike. The crowd, mostly, scattered. "You're not worth my time, coward!" Harry informed him coldly.

"Harry?" Dean prompted him, "Let's go!"

"Oh, yeah, run away again, faggot!" Smith snarled at him. "Just like you did last year!"

"Talk about the pot calling the kettle BLACK!" Dean spat, "I'll have you know I _fought_ in the battle, didn't run away from it," Dean said just as coldly. "I wasn't shoving Firsties out of my way and crying like a little bitch! I was running for my life in the wilds all year, not lounging about in the Cellar and playing the fool for the Carrows!"

"Not my fault you're a mongrel," Smith shrugged.

But Harry wasn't done. He remembered full well Smith's taunting about the Basilisk, and how Smith had so cowardly fled Hogwarts. He lifted Smith off the ground with one arm, taking advantage of what a year's worth of hard living and exercise had done for him. He threw him down, hard. Smith hit the ground, and his tailbone broke. He cried out in pain. The rest of the crowd ran. Harry stowed his wand.

"NEVER speak of Dennis again, or slander my friends," Harry told him, treading on the dropped wand, grinding it beneath his boot, "Or I shall make sure that you suffer just as much as _he_ did!"

"Give me regards to Justin," Smith snorted, as he slowly and painfully got to his feet. "Bunch of perverts!" He made to reach for his wand on the ground.

Harry stood on his hand. Bones broke. Smith screamed.

"Now you wait just a minute!" Smith's father stepped in.

Harry quickly stunned him. He then drew back his booted foot and kicked Zacharias Smith in the mouth. A few teeth flew amidst a shower of blood as Smith fell over backwards to crack his head on the cobblestones.

For a moment, Harry just stared at him. Then he sent his Patronus for help.

"Don't get up," He warned Smith, glaring at him. Clutching his holly wand, and wanting so very badly to Curse him, Harry held back. _But you know the spell, Potter! Use it...you know it..._

Then Smith began to scream. He curled up into a ball, as Harry thought of how badly he'd _like_ to go on hurting him. He released the wand, but it was warm in his pocket. Smith thrashed about still - bleeding, screaming, begging him to stop.

Harry held up his hands. "Hey, _I _didn't do it!" He announced.

"Not unless you can cast wandless Crucio, and I don't think he's screamin' enough fer that one," Dean decided. "You gonna kick him again?"

"No?"

So Dean kicked him – right in the bollocks.

Smith wailed and curled up in a bloody ball.

"Don't you _ever_ mention Justin's name again, bitch!" Dean warned him, as they turned and walked away. "How'd you do that?" Dean asked.

"Do what?" Harry asked. "I swung my foot, like you did?"

"No, Crucio?"

"I didn't," Harry said, but he wondered if that were really the case.

_You really have to **want** to do it, Potter!_ He could hear Bellatrix telling him.  
And he'd so very much wanted it.

There was a crowd forming again, they saw through Ollivander's window, as they were fetching Colin's refurbished wand. Harry put it in his pocket with the two others, and somehow, it felt right. "Let's go to Honeydukes Hogsmeade Outlet," Harry decided, thanking Ollivander and insisting he take some money for his work.

As they vanished, Dean told Harry, "Just can't take you anywhere!"

After a more positive experience in Hogmeade, Harry and Dean returned to the castle. Harry immediately wished he'd brought his cloak, as navigating the tent city of volunteer repair folks took the rest of the morning. They were only saved by the lunch bell.

_They either love you or hate you, no middle of the road, _Harry thought.

As they arrived in the Great Hall, Harry was just taking a seat with the Weasleys when Professor McGonagall walked up behind him. "Minister Shacklebolt will be arriving after lunch, Potter," she informed him, with that look of '_you've just gotten a detention'_ on her face. "And it's _not_ a social call!"

Harry and Dean exchanged a look.

"Is this something to do with the rumor that anyone who's a battle veteran is being accepted into the Auror program?" Arthur asked, "There's been some talk of it at the office, what with the ranks of the Aurors having been devastated in the last year?"

"That's part of it, Arthur," McGonagall replied, "The other part is something about a _street brawl_ in Diagon Alley this morning?" She rapped Harry and Dean over the heads with a rolled up parchment. "You may be of age, gents, but while you live under my roof, you will follow my rules!" Everyone looked at her. "Great Merlin, I've turned into my mother!" She mumbled, taking a seat next to Molly and reaching for baby Teddy. "And take off that homburg when your inside!" She added. "You look ridiculous! Yes, he does, doesn't he, Teddy?" She babbled at him. Teddy giggled.

Ron looked appaled.  
Harry took off his hat.

"What _did _you do?" Molly demanded, looking them over.

"Dean got a bit wild," Harry nudged him.

"HEY!" Dean protested. "I wasn't the one throwing Hufflepuffs around like sandbags!"

"He deserved it," Harry informed them.

"**Who**?" Andromeda cut in, with the rest of Harry's friends not daring to speak up. After all, it wasn't often that McGonagall and the ladies were at table with them – and in foul moods at that.

"Zacharias Smith," Dean answered. "He ran his mouth."

"And we closed it," Harry added, taking a bite of sandwich. They were all looking at him.

"Daft tosser," Ron muttered. Hermione smacked him again.

"He insinuated that I was an unfit parent, he harassed Dean, and he called Denny a Mudblood," Harry informed them. "Dean too, and Justin, and made a remark about his, ah, preferences. I didn't like that."

Professor Sprout, who'd joined them, looked up sharply. "I can't say he was one of my favorite students, certainly not with what he did at the evacuation. So much for the Hufflepuff loyalty," she sighed. "I'm afraid I have to concur with Mr. Weasley!"

"He went right along with the curriculum all year," Neville spoke up, his face hard. "While the rest of us were trying to win cinema awards for faking curses, he was doing the real thing. Always on about 'just go with, it'll be easier on you', or, 'you know they're gonna hurt us anyway, so don't make it worse'." He paused, taking a long drink. "While the rest of us were getting beat up and cursed for refusing to actually do the curses, or faking it, Smith _did_ them."

"Are you saying he _actually_ tortured other students?" Harry asked in a flat voice.

Neville nodded. "Sometimes, you'd think he should have been a Slytherin. Self-centered prat!"

"The Smith Family _did_ have leanings in that direction," Andromeda added, "I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the lot of them were siding with the Death Eaters."

"You wanna go back and hit him again?" Harry asked Dean.

"HARRY!" Molly shouted at him.

"No, I think this warrants further investigation, like Seamus and Neville said before," Harry replied, "Students like Crabbe and Goyle really got into the new curriculum, remember? There could be a larger problem here, Headmistress," he looked at McGonagall, "And it's bound to continue into the new term if it isn't stopped."

"What are you suggesting, Harry?" Andromeda asked, as he finished his sandwich and took Teddy. "That we interview _each_ student? We don't have the resources!"

"Do you take their word for it?" Arthur put in, "This is the same problem we had when the Dark Lord came to power the first time. As Moody said, how do we flush out the liars?"

Harry could hear Snape's voice in his mind, threatening to tip some Veritaserum into his pumpkin juice. He recalled Umbridge doing the same thing in his Fifth Year, and thought of it rankled him. But what else was there to do?

"Speaking of resources, where's Krum, anyway?" Harry asked.

"Sprung a leak," Hermione explained, "He's hoping to be seaworthy by tonight."

"We've _got_ to get things up and running again," Harry snorted. "Don't they have Portkeys?"

"We've got the same problem at the Ministry," Arthur reminded him, "The place is in shambles. We've got to concentrate our efforts there to figure out who we can trust."

"Harrrrry?" Hermione said slowly, "You're surely not considering what I think you are?"

Harry looked up at her, his jaw set. "I think we can take a page from dear old Dolores' book here," he nodded. "Find all the Legillimens we think we can trust, screen _them_ out first, and then use them, in concert with covert Veritaserum cocktails, on the rest."

"And what do we do with those that we don't trust? Who's to judge?" Hermione retorted. "Harry, this makes us no better than _her_!"

"In case you didn't notice, WE won," Ron reminded her, "We're the good guys!"

"I have no intentions of carving words into their flesh," Harry added, which made Hermione flinch. "Once Krum and his boys get here to help, we put those with leanings towards the darker side on house arrest, disarm them, and let them stay home awaiting a fair trial." He looked at the teachers. "I'd also suggest interviewing Elphias Doge, too, then flush out the remaining Wizengamot, just to be safe." He took a long drink. "It's also an opportunity to solve this unemployment issue we've got, what with the larger classes we've had lately."

"Yes, we saw how well your ideas worked with the Malfoys," Hermione reminded him.

Harry handed Teddy over to Ginny and stood up, glaring at her. "If you think it was _easy_ for me to go there, and face them, you're _wrong_, Hermione! But it was _right_!" Harry paraphrased Dumbledore's ode to Cedric Diggory. "We had a debt to Narcissa, believe it or not, and that debt _had_ to be repaid!"

"With Draco's life?" Hermione came back at him.

"If that cowardly little ferret _wanted _to pop himself, who was _I_ to hang about and make sure he didn't?" Harry replied, his voice low and even. "He had a _choice _– Dumbledore and Snape both gave him _more _than one! He _made_ his choice! You were in the RoR when he made one as well – I was trying to end the Dark Lord, and he and his mates tried to _murder_ us!"

"Children," Andromeda spoke up, standing as well, "I think this conversation is over."

"I agree," the smooth baritone of Kingsley added, as he'd come up behind them without them noticing him. "Harry, Thomas, I think you two and I need to take this up in private. Minerva, may we?" He pointed at the ceiling.

"Security and all Wards have been refitted to the Head's office, yes," McGonagall agreed, "Feel free."

"I'll need to check on Denny first," Harry said, as the three of them got up to go.

Hermione and the rest just stared after them.

"I don't have all day, Harry," the Minister said.

"I _do_," Harry retorted, as they detoured to Hospital. Dennis was still sleeping, and that satisfied Harry as he glanced at his charts.

"Heard you got your Nimbus from McGonagall back," Kingsley offered, "Farsighted as you are, it's a wonder you can fly it."

"It's a Firebolt from Sirius, and I'm nearsighted," Harry retorted. "Good one." He glanced at his watch. "Pity I got it shot out from under me flying away from Privet Drive."

"You left on the motorcycle with Hagrid, and Fleur was so shocked to be you," Kingsley answered, "A fake _you_ in a bra! Good one! How's your sister, Margaret, and your little brother?" He then asked Dean.

"I don't have one," Dean replied, "But I _do _have a sister named Marie, sir. And I'm the only boy."

"Now that we know that we are who we think we are," Kingsley nodded. "I guess I'll have to remind Minerva of that, next time she's expecting a guest."

"Tedious," Dean snorted, as they went on up the stairs to the Head's office.

It was much like Harry remembered it, with the exception of the new-to-him portrait of Albus Dumbledore. He greeted them jovially. Phineas Black, however, still upset over being carted all over creation, refused to speak to them. Harry noted the blank space by Dumbledore.

"When are we commissioning Professor Snape's portrait?" Harry asked.

Kingsley looked shocked. "He was a traitor to us! Abandoned his post!"

"He was _our _man," Harry informed him. "There's a lot you don't know about him, Minister. He _never_ betrayed us. It was all an act. If you'd like," Harry informed him, "There's a Pensieve over there with a load of memories he gave me when he died. I'd suggest you view them, sir, to save me the time and pain of telling you the story," Harry suggested. Oddly enough, he found himself still perplexed over the images he'd seen. "I will have his rightful place amongst these portraits," Harry added, "And I will see him taken from holding and interred amongst the honored dead at the memorial garden." Harry swallowed hard. "He had no one, sir. I won't see him just dumped in an unmarked grave or vaporized. He deserves better."

"Well spoken, Harry," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore agreed. "It's nice to know that you've finally acknowledged Severus' worth, and honor."

"He was, without a doubt, the bravest man I ever knew," Harry nodded. "In retrospect, I can't see it any other way now. I just wish he...he hadn't hated me so."

Kingsley sat at the Head's desk. The boys sat before him, and Harry was reminded of the times he'd sat in that chair before. "So tell me again about your plans," Kingsley asked, and Harry did that.  
"So we get Doge in on it, after we clear him, and get a new Wizengamot going. Next, we start sneaking Veritaserum into the water coolers at the Ministry, and clean it out. House arrest for anyone we don't like. Does this sound familiar, Harry? Want me to find a Dementor, too?"

"As I told Hermione, sir," Harry replied, "This _isn't_ like Umbridge's treatment of Muggleborns. It may seem that way, but it's an _entirely_ different matter. I have no intention of anyone being sent to Azkaban, or threatened with Dementors, just because of their blood status."

"You're offering a kinder, gentler version of _exactly_ what she did, though?" Kingsley replied.

"Don't lecture _me _on that, sir," Dean spoke up, "If that bitch had had her way, I'd probably be dead now. No one would have cared that my real dad, whoever he is, might have been magical. That's why I ran. And do you really want kids back here like Zach Smith? What if Draco Malfoy had wanted to come back? What about Goyle? You really think you can just let anyone back in here, or running loose out there, without knowing how they really feel about all this?"

"You're talking about martial law, in fact," Kingsley reminded them. "And speaking of," He glared at Harry, "If you're going to wear that costume out in public, then you _damn well _better walk the walk that comes with it! You don't go around beating the hell out of people you don't like, and then expect to hide behind that uniform!" He palmed his face. "I can see that we're going to have to get you lot into training at once."

"Define 'you lot'?" Harry retorted.

"Anyone who would have graduated last year that wants to go into the Auror program, Harry," he used his first name again. "Our ranks have been badly reduced, and we desperately need new recruits. Weren't you on the NEWT track for Auroring?"

"I was," Harry nodded, "And I plan to continue."

"Count me out, I gotta finish my education," Dean added.

"Neville and Seamus are probably interested," Harry mused, "Although I doubt Ron is. To be honest, I think he'd be more of a liability."  
Dean gaped at him.  
"It's true," Harry went on, "He may have more self-confidence now, but he's been a slacker for six years. A loyal, honest one, but a slacker nonetheless."

"I see," Kingsley nodded, making notes.

"Isn't that a bit harsh, Harry?" Dumbledore wondered, "Hasn't he proven himself this past year?"

"He abandoned us," Harry replied. "Never mind the fact that he came back. He walked out on Hermione and me. Besides, he's too worried about George, and so am I. Ron's right – he needs to be with his brother now. Maybe in a year or two, he'll be mature enough for it. But not now." Harry stated.

"And Longbottom?" Kingsley asked.

"Neville's matured a _lot_," Harry said, "With what he went through last term, he's more than proven that he can hold his own – he and Seamus both. And if you think about it, I'm sure that their education in the Dark Arts consisted of more than just torturing one another."

"I'd have to say, they learned a great deal," Dumbledore cut in, shaking his head sadly, "Things that, sadly, could prove useful as an Auror. In retrospect, as you said, the Carrows and their lot could have done the exact opposite of what they intended – training up a new lot of students with the ability _to_ do what they did, but...many with the conscience to know _not_ to use it. And _that_ counts for a lot!"

"You learn a great deal, struggling to defend yourself," Armando Dippett agreed. "We used to watch from other frames, you know. Be careful, Potter – you've got some real little fireballs coming back next term!"

"I'll consider it," Kingsley agreed, "And I'll try and sweep this little matter of a street brawl under the rug, too. Just don't – do – it – again!" He warned them. "Monday next, Harry, you and anyone you pick are starting training. Eight hour days, and you won't like it," he warned him. "Now, as for the matter of Slytherin House – as Horace absolutely refused to come back?"

"I'd say let the kids come back, if they want to," Dean offered, "Don't punish them for what their parents did. Unless they're older, that is, and they're like Goyle and them. Invite them. If they've got something to hide, they won't come back, I think?"

"And if they do, and do come back, they'll eventually slip up and incriminate themselves," Harry theorized. "I'd say it's safer to have them here, in fact, with three houses who don't like them, and don't trust them, watching them for us. They at least deserve a chance." He seemed to consider it, rubbing at his bearded chin. Dean suppressed a snicker. Harry kicked his leg, grinning. "But I'd exclude them from the possibility of having a candidate for Head Boy or Girl. I'd also remove their Prefects."

"Really?" The Minister cocked his head at him.

"Maybe in a couple years, reinstate it, but not now. No," Dean agreed.

"Then who's to head it?" Kingsley asked. "Any ideas?"

"No chance of making Professor Slughorn an offer he can't refuse?" Harry asked. "I mean, he is fairly lazy and nothing but a social climber, but he's a good teacher."

Dean laughed. "Offer him a formal public apology, the best quarters and office, a pay raise, and better retirement?"

Kingsley made a note. "We should have enough gold to do that. You might be interested to know, Harry, that Lucius Malfoy had a very intriguing clause in his will. Want to hear it?" Harry nodded, "If he and his son were to both die without an heir, excluding a stipend for any surviving wife, his estate was to be made into a home for wayward Pureblood children and/or their families, preferably of Slytherin House, but not exclusively, and to be run _by_ the Head of Slytherin House. Think managing that mansion might tempt Slughorn back to us?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I'd say Narcissa won't want it. Too many bad memories. She and her sister have been getting close again, and I think she'd want to get away and go with her."

"What if she says no? It _is_ her house, after all." Kingsley pointed out.

"She'll say yes," Harry answered confidently, "One way or another. It's too good to pass up, and I'm sure there's kids out there that'll need a home. Besides, with all the orphaned Purebloods under one roof, we can keep a closer eye on them. Leave it to Lucius Malfoy to be a stuck-up arse to the very end, and beyond, though!"

"That kinda bothers me, Harry?" Dean wondered. "It'd be like a prison for Pureblood kids?"

"It would be for their own safety," Harry reasoned. "Look at what we did to Smith today. You think anyone else, right now, in this postwar frame of mind, is going to feel any different?"

"Good point," Dean was forced to agree.

Kingsley then reached into his pocket. "Oh, almost forgot this," he placed a key numbered with 314 on the desk. "That's for Creevey. It's to Jugson's vault."

"Hand me that, you're closer, Dean," Harry said.

Dean picked up the key and gave it to him. Harry scanned it with the holly wand, then took it.

"Hey!" Dean gasped. "Were you just tryin' to...?" He gaped at Harry. "You _bastard_! How did you know it wasn't cursed or something?"

"Because you're still here!" Harry laughed at him. "You're right, you need another year of school!"

"_That _shit ain't funny, man!" Dean was genuinely angry with him now.

"Relax, mate. We knew it was Kingsley who gave it to us, we knew he'd have checked it before HE even went near it, he's OK to begin with, and he got it into Hogwarts," Harry explained.

"But you let _me_ grab it first?" Dean protested.

"And now you have more education," Harry grinned at him. "Have they sent a Curse-breaker into the vault yet?"

"Not that I know of," the Minister answered.

"Better get Bill, then," Harry reasoned.

"All right, then, that just about does it," Kingsley checked his notes. "Thomas, you're free to come back as a Seventh Year this September 1. However, even though you are over age, you'll still be a student and bound by school rules. Once Diggle and his gang bring your family out of hiding, I'd suggest you go and spend some time with them. Of course, you're free to leave at any time before you graduate."

Harry thought of Fred and George, and their glorious exit from Hogwarts. He smiled.

"What about the cost, sir?" Dean wondered. "With being on the run, hiding, my dad's broke."

"I'm sure we'll find something in the assets of those who attacked you to compensate, just bill it to Hogwarts," Kingsley assured him. He looked at Harry. "Now, about this mess with the Goblins being all upset with you?"

"I'll go to the bank when Denny's ready to, and I'll handle it," Harry assured him. "Idiots," he snarled, "That's just why Griphook left – he refused to be a slave to Voldemort's new order, and the rest of them just went along with it. I wonder what he promised them in return?"

"Something I'm sure they never _were _gonna get," Dean reasoned. "If you could make them see that?"

As they got up to go, Harry looked lost in thought. "Dean, I've never explored my vault, you know. I just know it's stuffed. If you need money, I mean, shit! I got no use for it," he laughed, remembering Griphook's words: "I've no interest in gold."

"Thank you," Dean whispered.

"**POTTER!**" McGonagall's voice then filled the castle, "**Your broomstick is here!**"

Sliding down bannisters and jumping newly repaired and moving staircases like eleven-year-olds, they raced down to find Mr. Quilliam standing there, looking windblown, and holding two new broomsticks as he sat on the Firebolt.

"Did I mention cruise control?" He laughed. Everyone was coming to see, but Harry was cautious and quizzed Quilliam for identification, scanning the broomsticks.

"Who's the other one for?" Dean asked, and Harry finally took it from Quilliam. It was a fully reconditioned and recharmed Nimbus 2001, sparkling black with gold bezel. Harry handed it to Dean.

"Play Quidditch this fall, Dean," Harry asked. "I know you loved it once."

Then Harry mounted his beloved Firebolt, kicking off hard and vanishing into the blue sky.


	7. Chapter 7-Gringotts

**Dark Mirror X**

**7**

**Gringotts**

"_**My direction is changing, which way – which way – can I go?"-©'85 Asia**_

Justin Finch-Fletchley woke up later that evening, and by the time Madame Pomfrey was done with him, he'd wished he hadn't. Dean was called to the Hospital, briefed on his boyfriend's condition, then went completely to bits. Once he'd calmed down, he asked for dinner there, and if Justin could try to eat. Madame Pomfrey was delighted.

"The sooner you get him up and out of here, the better!" She declared, summoning two plates from the Hall. "Nothing spicy, soft stuff only, no bread," she decided. She waved her wand again and started removing various life-support items. Justin howled. "That's a good sign," she observed. All the commotion woke up Dennis, who just sat up in his bed, looking anxious. She rolled her eyes, amplified her voice, and shouted, "POTTER!"

So it was, they all had dinner with Madame Pomfrey and a few other patients able to take solid food.

"All the time Harry spent in here, I don't think we ever had a dinner party," Ron mused.

"Well you all always did think it was a bloomin' hotel!" The Mediwitch complained, but her smile gave her away. "I suppose I'd better break out Potter's old bed, now that he's got that damn broom back!"

Harry smiled at her. It was always something, indeed: the fight with Quirrel, his deboned arm, the Dementors, any number of Tri-Wizard Tourney injuries, any number of things in Fifth Year. He tried to recall Sixth, but noticed Dennis.

"You're not eating," Harry informed him.

Dennis sniffled, picking at his food. "I feel stupid," he muttered. "I'm sorry I freaked out, Harry." Two tears rolled down his cheeks. "Stupid!" He repeated, balling up his fists and hitting himself on the sides of his head.

"Dennis!" Harry and Hermione, and a few others, exclaimed. Harry grabbed his right, and Hermione grabbed his left wrist. "Dennis," Hermione explained clinically, "The fact that you _can_ cry is a good sign! Listen to me!" She tugged on his arm when he resisted, "I'd be _more_ worried if you didn't cry and just went on your merry way as if nothing happened!"

"You're a tough kid, Denny," Neville then spoke up, sounding lost. He was seated by Cameron Avery's bed, and holding the unconscious boy's hand. "Tougher than most, I wonder. Why hasn't _he_ woke up yet, Madame?"

"I don't know, Neville," Madame Pomfrey answered. "I've tried everything."

"Wh-wha's dat?" Justin mumbled, pointing at his plate.  
"Mashed sprouts," Dean offered him a forkful.  
Justin pulled a face, but accepted it.  
"N-needs ch-cheese uh-and s-salt."

Dean wiped his mouth, as Justin's efforts only made the mess worse. "What's wrong with his hands, and why's he stuttering?" Dean asked anxiously.

"He's been down for nearly two weeks with serious brain trauma. Give his body some time to start working again. Just wait until his colon kicks in again!" Madame Pomfrey laughed. "Sorry, a bit of medical humor!"

Everyone gaped at her, so out of character. But they were mainly interested in Justin and Dean, and how tenderly Dean treated him. The expression on his face spoke volumes. Even Dennis relaxed and tried to eat a bit.

Neville made a small sound, setting his half-eaten dinner aside. "I think I know why this little one isn't improving," he offered, looking back at Justin and Dean. Then he looked at Harry and Dennis. "Two boys, equal situations. One comes out of it, one doesn't?" Everyone just looked at them. "You don't _see_ it?"

No one did.

Neville smoothed Cameron's hair, then waved his wand over him with a charm to freshen him up. "He's got medical care, but that's all," Neville explained with a huff. "Don't you _see_ it? This kid has no reason _to_ wake up." He stared into Cameron's vacant, glassy eyes. "His world ended, and the only one to replace it was the nightmare of one he'd had here. First Year is supposed to be a magical time, the best one of your childhood, isn't it?" He asked.

"It was a hell of a ride for _me_," Ron offered, glancing at Harry.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"But it was a _good _ride, don't you see?" Neville went on. "Uncle Algie took me to a Muggle theme park once when I was about nine. We rode a rolly-coaster! It was like the cars in Gringotts, and it was great! I vomited, of course, but that was all part of it. It was a wild, but fun ride." He touched the unconscious boy's cheek. "This poor kid's car went off the rails, and all he had was us to catch him. We _failed _him," Neville concluded.

"Tommy and Clay said he wasn't _that _bad," Dennis offered. "But he did what they told him...well, _after_ he got punished some."

Madame Pomfrey sighed. "You're looking at the most punished Slytherin in his year," She confirmed. "As I recall, the Hat took a while with him."

"The Avery family were all Death Eaters, though?" Ron objected.

"Voldemort didn't take children," Hermione reminded him. "But I'd imagine he scared the hell out of him." They all blinked, as it was unusual to hear her curse so.

"D-did we win?" Justin spoke up, blinking rapidly.

"We won," Dean assured him.

"**Did** we?" Neville wondered, shifting Cameron's arms and stretching them. "Dean's been up here constantly, tending to Justin. Harry's hardly let Dennis out of his sight. But who's been taking care of Cameron, here? Has anyone been working his muscles or rolling him around?" He looked at Madame Pomfrey. "You can't just park him in a bed, hook him up to some tubes and bottles, and forget about him! Don't you lot _see_ it? He's got NOTHING to come back TO!" Neville's voice rose. "For Merlin's sake! No one _loves _this kid anymore, and he **knows **it!"

"You think _his _lot would have treated Denny or Justin any better, had _they_ won?" Harry countered. "He'll have somewhere to go, once Kingsley and the legal folks straighten out the Malfoy mess!"

"And do what?" Neville countered, "Lay in a bed _there_ until he wastes away?"

"N-no, no m-more!" Justin protested, waving a floppy hand at Dean and his offered sprouts.

"I'd blame it on Wrackspurts," Luna offered, as she came on in. "Oh, hello Justin! I see you're up! Aren't they just the cutest couple?" She smiled, patting Dean's arm. Dean turned the color of his new wand. Luna then reached into her handbag, and pulled out a ridiculous set of what looked like Muggle 3D glasses. She came over and looked at Cameron closely. "Yes, his head's full of them," she diagnosed.

Ron made an indelicate sound. Hermione kicked his shin.

"I think he's right, Harry," Ginny whispered to him, "Denny would probably be just like _that,_ if not for you."

"Well why don't you see what _you _can do, then, Doctor Longbottom?" Harry suggested, his voice dripping sarcasm. "If Madame Pomfrey can't..."

"Really?!" Neville cut across him, "You _really_ feel that way about him, Harry? Is THIS what we fought a _war_ for?" He pointed at the insensate child. "Is THIS what we went out and bloody well _died_ for? Hell, wasn't it _you_ that was talking, not two weeks ago, to not blame the children for their parents' mistakes?"

"If you're going to shout, take it outside," Madame Pomfrey interrupted. "In fact, the lot of you need to go. I've got to get the inmates settled for the night!" There were several groans and protests from the patients.

"Do I have to stay?" Dennis whined.

"If you can get out that door under your own power, GO!" She told him.

Dennis jumped up and fled.

Only Neville and Dean remained behind in Hospital: Dean going over a therapy program for Justin, and Neville just sitting quietly with Cameron.

Back in Gryffindor Tower, Harry decided that it probably wasn't a good idea to tell Dennis about his brother's recovered wand yet. He reminded him that they still had to visit the bank. Instead, he presented him with the new broomstick. "Madame Hooch tells me you were getting an 'Exceeds Expectations' in flying class?" Harry asked the shocked boy. Dennis just nodded. "You think you're up to a flight tomorrow?"

"_All _the way to London?!" Dennis squeaked.

"Yes, and we need to arrange some things with Bill Weasley, too," Harry added carefully. "It's up to you what to do with your house in Kent, and all that. We'll need to arrange it with the bank."

"You might want Bill to do all that," Ron suggested, "Until you settle this mess with the Goblins."

"Good point," Harry nodded. "Do you know if the Quidditch locker rooms survived the battle? I haven't looked?"

"The brooms were all stolen, but the building's still there," Ron replied, "The stands are going to have to be totally rebuilt, though."

"Let's go have a look, shall we?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Ron asked, as they sneaked on down under the Cloak, "Where'd you get the gold to pay for that stuff today?"

"I started a stash in First Year," Harry replied, "Hidden under a loose stone under my bed. I never spent much, you know."

"We used to stash stuff under our beds, too. You have to be careful, I mashed my finger that..._one_ night," Dennis informed them. "Harry, I...I think we should go get my brother's trunk and stuff out of his room. It's up there, all alone."

"We'll do that," Harry assured him, as they arrived at the locker rooms. They all lit their wands.

The room was dusty and smelled of damp decay. There was a chill to it, and Harry almost expected Dementors. As he opened his old locker, some dust fell from the latch.

"Ginny said they didn't play last year," Ron informed them. "The Death Eaters thought it a waste of time."

"Wonder they didn't steal all this?" Harry wondered, picking out his old Quidditch gear. "Let's take this and freshen it up a bit, shall we? Find something for Denny to wear tomorrow," he found a pair of goggles and charmed them down to fit the small boy. "You want to go?" He asked Ron.

"Nah, I gotta go with George, starting on the new store, thanks," Ron declined. "Unless you think you'll need help fighting Goblins?"

Harry laughed. "I think we go with this," he nodded, gathering up all his old things. "I'm gonna miss playing," he sighed.

"Yeah, well jus' listen to Bill, all right?" Ron warned him. "Remember Griphook?"

"You two look utterly ridiculous!" Andromeda informed them at breakfast the next day. In fact, many heads had turned when Harry and Dennis had entered the Hall. "Have you even _washed _that thing?" She demanded, handing Teddy off to him.

"Yes, Kreacher cleaned it all up for us," Harry rolled his eyes.

"You'll scratch the baby with those whiskers," Molly fretted.

"And what are _you_ supposed to be, Mr. Creevey?" McGonagall asked Dennis, barely suppressing a laugh.

Dennis was dressed in scarlet and gold Quidditch robes, gauntlets, boots, goggles up on his head out of the way, the whole nine yards. He looked like he was ready to step out onto the pitch. As he sat down, everyone saw the emblazoned "POTTER 7" on his back. Harry had charmed his old uniform to fit Dennis.

"We're gonna test out my new Thunderclap today!" Dennis crowed.

"Thunderclap?" Oliver Wood exclaimed, joining them at table, "Well, I'll make sure we at least get the hoops fully repaired for you, then!" He smiled, tapping on Dennis' helmet. "You gonna try out fer Keeper, then?"

"Harry _made_ me wear it, I think it's silly," Dennis snorted.

"Smart boy," Gran Longbottom agreed, "Anyone seen Neville?"

"Hospital," Luna spoke up. "We're going to try some Gurdyroot tea with Cam today, see if he can take any."

"Bloody well kill him," Ron mumbled, and Harry snickered.

About then, the post owls began arriving. A very official looking one dropped a letter in front of McGonagall. "Oh, it's from Horace," she read, "Well, seems like Kingsley made him an offer he couldn't refuse! That's our Slytherin Head and Potions Master problems solved." She wrinkled up her nose. "Unused classroom to be converted into office space, split level, with living quarters?!"

"Oh dear," Molly cut in, shaking out the newspaper. Everyone grabbed theirs up or leaned over to see hers.

**STREET BRAWL IN DIAGON ALLEY!**

"Rita's at it again," Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head. "I think I need to have a chat with her."

"Luna, call your dad," Harry reminded her. "We're interviewing this evening, if he can. Tell him to quote me a price on new presses!"

"'Abuse of power, pretending to be an Auror'?" Ron gasped.

"'Witnesses claim that Harry Potter, dressed up in what appeared to be Mad Eye Moody's castoffs, along with Dean Thomas, assaulted and severely injured Zacharias Smith, formerly of Hufflepuff House,'" Hermione read aloud. She glared at Harry. "'All I did was ask him about the Draco Malfoy thing, and how his ward, Dennis, was doing,' Smith was quoted at St. Mungo's, 'Then he just exploded and began beating me!'"

"He's gonna _think_ 'beaten'," Ron snarled. "Where's he live?" He ducked Hermione's swing at his head.

"So much for covering it up," Harry muttered, shoving his plate back. "Ready, kid?" He asked Dennis, who certainly was.

"I'll meet you there," Bill spoke up, "I'll keep him out of trouble, Mum," he whispered to Molly.

Once outside, Harry and Colin took to the sky. Bill turned on the spot and apparated away.

"Doesn't look too bad," Bill observed, as he met up with a very windblown Harry and Dennis on the steps outside the bank. "Nice to see the Alley being cleaned up so well!"

"I see you stopped at Honeydukes?" Harry asked.

"Runs in the family," Bill grinned. "Then I stopped by the store."

"Who's tending WWW now?" Harry thought to ask.

"Lee Jordan and a few others mates," Bill replied, as they started up the steps. "Bit slow, but it'll pick up when school starts!" He laughed.

"I wanna go!" Dennis piped up.

"When we're done here," Harry assured him, mumbling a few protective spells around himself and Dennis. Bill did the same, just to be safe.

"Let me do the talking, Harry. Like I _tried_ to warn you with Griphook, remember? I deal with these blokes all the time," Bill reminded him. "Denny,_ you_ be quiet."

As they entered the foyer, Harry looked around. The bank was just as he remembered first seeing it seven years before. The damage had been repaired, and the Goblins were at their teller windows, going about business as usual. A security guard approached the trio, seeming not to recognize them. Then he took another look at Harry.

"Mr. Potter!" He gasped. "You probably shouldn't be here, sir!" He warned him. "Balfor and the lot are still really pissed at you!" He glanced at Bill and Dennis. "Oh, hello, Mr. Weasley! What brings you here?"

Dennis gave his key to vault 314 to Bill. "Got to check on this boy's new vault, deeded over to him in the Jugson settlement," Bill explained. "Might be a curse or three on it, I wonder?"

"Uh oh," Dennis squeaked, seeing a rather ugly little Goblin approaching them.

"How _dare_ you, you _liar,_ **thief**, and _**murderer**_!" Balfor confronted Harry, "How _dare_ you show your face here!"

"That's far enough, Balfor," Harry warned him. "Don't approach any closer." He looked around. "Love what you've done with the place!"

But Balfor kept on coming. "Stop," Harry warned him, holding out his hand, palm out, "Or you'll be sorry!"

Balfor flew into a rage and lunged at Harry, who just stood there, smirking at him. The goblin pulled a jeweled dagger, but just as he was about to make contact, he froze and vanished into a burst of cyan light, leaving behind only an acrid puff of smoke and a burn mark on the floor. Everyone stopped what they were doing and just stared at them in disbelief.

"I _warned_ him," Harry shrugged.

"Th-that you did, sir," the guard just managed.

"Bit of overkill, don't you think, Harry?" Bill asked.

"I would like to enter my vault, and his vault," Harry pointed at Dennis. "We have keys."

The guard flicked his wand, silencing the alarm. More came running, but backed off at the sight of Harry. "I, erm, well, I'm Rogers, pleased to meet you, Mr. Potter," he acted as if he'd offer his hand, but decided not to, glancing at the black scorch mark on the floor.

"What the...?" Another goblin began to ask, peeking up from behind the head teller's desk. "Oh, it's_ you_! Come to wreck the place again, have we?" He grinned wickedly.

"If you'd like, but I really don't have the time," Harry shrugged. "Now, as far as damages, one would think that freeing you from bondage of Voldemort and the Death Eaters might encourage a bit of gratitude? Your bank is yours again, under _Goblin_ authority, and as far as I see it, you're only out some labor time. Any competent witch with a wand could have done repair charms for a few days, and all's well again. Now, before we go into the tired old argument about stolen property, I would explain this you," Harry raised his voice, "You all listen up! How many of you were loyal fans of Voldemort?"

No hands went up.

"You're happier now?" Harry went on, as they all nodded. "Good. Now, get it through your thick skulls – when I broke in, it was to save you lot as well as Humanity. I took one and only ONE item, and destroyed it. It was necessary to get rid of Voldemort. I took nothing else, as I am sure your audits show. I've no interest in other folks' property. I am truly sorry for Griphook's death as well."

"_We're_ not," the new head teller snorted, "Hornbeak," he introduced himself, and Harry saw that he was aptly named. "Stupid arse, he were."

"Bit of dissension in the ranks," Bill mumbled.

"Very clever, to enchant yourself," Hornbeak observed, "But _I've_ no malice towards you, Potter. The Death Eaters certainly did nothing for me and mine, but lie and deceive and steal."

"Bringing us to the matter of the one item, and the Sword of Gryffindor," Bill cut in, "By now, you should all realize that the Sword cannot be held by any one person. Given that it is Goblin-made, you should appreciate the magic that drives it. One wonders why it chose to _not_ stay with you, when Griphook captured it? As for the one stolen item, as Harry said, it _had_ to be destroyed, having been corrupted by Dark Magic. Also, Harry has offered compensation for the labor in your repairs. What else do you deem acceptable recompense? We will hear your offers."

"It would be fair to display the Sword," Hornbeak agreed, "Although I'm not sure I trust the damn thing. Rumor is, it's been corrupted by Basilisk venom?"

"True," Harry nodded, keeping a firm hand on Dennis' arm. "It presented itself to me to kill the thing. I never asked for it, and I returned it."

"Keep it, it's more trouble than it's worth," Hornbeak snorted. Bill blinked. The rest of the goblins gasped. "I'll not see any more Goblin blood spilled over the silly thing. Besides, with Griphook and Bogrod gone, the line of them what created it to begin with are all gone. And the Sword _did_ do some good, yes, I have to admit," he added grudgingly. "Killed the snake?"

"That were Neville," Harry supplied, "Yes."

"Well spoken," Bill nodded. "But surely you wish some compensation?"

"Many of the armaments displayed in Hogwarts are Goblin-made," Hornbeak explained, "Contracted over a thousand years ago by your Founders. They have now been used, as agreed."

"The weapons that are such, we shall give back to you," Bill offered, "After we humans make facsimiles that are _normal _weapons, similar in look."

"Acceptable," Hornbeak grinned, and Dennis flinched.

"And perhaps a plaque, honouring the names of the crafters, and how their skill helped win this war?" Bill added.

"Oh, very nice!" Hornbeak nodded, grinning wider. "And perhaps an increase in the conversion fees of Muggle to Magical currency? Ten percent?"

"Five," Bill countered.  
"Nine!"  
"Six."  
"Eight!"  
"Seven will do it?" Bill finished the haggle.

"Very good," Hornbeak nodded again. "You're certainly agreeable?"

"As are you," Bill nodded back. "And the favor of getting rid of your undesirables?"

"That _was_ a big one," Hornbeak had to admit. "Can't say I'll miss Balfor, and it makes me Head Teller! But you _do_ owe us a dragon!"

"No," Harry drew the line. "That was cruel. Think of another security measure. I'll be happy to pay for what you paid for the dragon, though."

"We don't value gold as you do, Potter," Hornbeak sniffed, and Bill nudged Harry. "But I hear that the Malfoy estate is being settled?" He rubbed his hands together.

"Let's get to it," Bill shrugged. "You'll want ten percent over the usual banking and settlement fees, and I'll haggle you to seven again."

"Agreed," Hornbeak shrugged, "Seven it is. And any Goblin-made artifacts in the Manor will revert to us."

"At your _own _risk," Bill added, "If they're cursed, that's not the Wizarding World's problem. We will not be liable."

"Agreed," Hornbeak smiled. "But that dragon ate a lot."

"I'll buy you a cattle ranch," Harry offered.

"Very nice! See? You wizards _can _be dealt with!" Hornbeak clapped his hands once. "Now, about that labor bill?"

Harry palmed his face. "Rails, a car, labor, lost dragon, anything else?" He asked Bill carefully.

"You were the ones what did it," Bill replied.

"How about an essay on how we broke in, so it can't happen again that way?" Harry offered. "I'm sure we can locate you some metals to fix that railway? And I'll pay for the damaged car."

Hornbeak clapped his hands again, nodding. So did Bill. "One more thing," the Goblin added.

"Present your request," Bill cocked his head.

"We have a few...distasteful...persons here who insist on having...relations...with humans," Hornbeak looked ill, "Should any of them conceive a hybrid child, we would demand that said child, if magical in a human sense, be admitted to Hogwarts just as a fully human child would – with rights to own a wand."

"Sir, that is beyond our jurisdiction," Bill replied. "But I shall have School Governors debate it, with the aid of Professor Filius Flitwick."

"And I shall support it," Harry agreed. He thought for a moment. "Register the children as human, and there's no problem? They are human, at least, half?"

"Acceptable," Hornbeak nodded. "You sure this little one isn't part-Goblin?"

"I don't think so, sir?" Dennis answered, as Bill nudged him.

"Well, as I believe this concludes negotiations for settlement?" Hornbeak offered his hand. "I see this boy has a key, and we have business to tend to! There's a fee, you know?"

"There always is, the standard one," Bill replied, looking at his hand. "And as a Gringotts Curse-Breaker, I assure you, I have no interest in the contents of the vaults," He presented his badge, "In a personal sense, that is. I am here to perform my job, and will turn any suspect objects over to you, should I find any. The rest, I will consider to be the property of the new vault-owner, as will you. No fee today."

They shook hands.

"Key, please," Hornbeak then asked. Bill handed it over. "Ah, 314, Jugson. Yes. Come along!"

Being a less secured vault, and on a higher level, the ride was short. As Dennis had never had one, though, he was quite keen to have another. "Stand back," Hornbeak warned them, putting the key in the lock and running a finger down the seam of the doors. The vault creaked open. "Not overly large, but large enough," the Goblin pointed out. "You may light your wands, and hover the lantern to see better."

Bill then got down to work, as the other three waited. "Typical," he snorted, as a flash of green light blew out of the door seams. "There's one." He then began casting spells in rapid succession. Flashes of varying colors of light went off in the vault. "Paranoid, I'll give him that," Bill muttered, "But not too smart. A trainee could bust into this thing!"

"We do not monitor what the lessees _do _with the vaults," Hornbeak informed them, "So long as the rent is paid."

There was a loud BANG! Bill put up a hasty shield. "Amateur," he snickered. "In this case, it's the quantity, not the quality of the Curses in here!" He turned around. "If you'd just walked in, you'd be dead by now," he informed them. He then did another scan. "That's it, if Hornbeak concurs?"

"Yes, you've got them all," the Goblin nodded.

"I thought you didn't keep track of that, you said?" Harry asked.

"I said we do not _monitor_ it, but we do _audit_ it later," Hornbeak grinned. "We are now free to transfer the vault," he clapped his hands, giving the key back to Dennis. "Place your palm on either door!" Dennis did that. "Mr. Potter, do the same, since you are his legal guardian." Harry did that. Hornbeak then mumbled something in Gobbledygook. Harry and Dennis both flinched, but their hands were stuck to the door.

"Give it a second," Bill said, as the doors lit up in white light.

"Very odd," Hornbeak observed, as Dennis yelped, pulling his hand back.

"It bit me!" He exclaimed.

"The door requires a drop of the new owner's blood," Hornbeak pointed out. "Your next question, Mr. Potter, is no – when you inherited your vault upon your parents' deaths, you carried their blood, as their heir. It knew you already. The vault is now yours, Dennis Creevey, and be advised, new keys are not cheap!"

"I can go in now?" Dennis asked.  
"Yes? I said?"  
"You're sure, sir?"  
"Are you deaf?"  
"No, sir."  
"Don't you trust me?"  
"Erm, no!" Dennis said honestly.

"I _like_ this boy!" Hornbeak clapped him on the back.

"You can go in now, Denny," Bill told him, "Well done!"

Dennis walked in, wand lit, and they followed him. Harry levitated the lantern up, throwing a warm glow over stacks of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

The vault was nearly filled with coins, gemstones, and artifacts that looked quite valuable. "Can I take some?" Dennis asked.

"It is yours," Hornbeak reminded him.

Dennis' stomach growled. "I'm hungry," he said, as he scooped up a pocketful of gold and silver.

"What are you going to buy with all that?" Bill wondered. "The whole restaurant?"

"Is that a lot?" Dennis asked innocently, looking around at the comparative mountains of coins. "I feel like Scrooge McDuck!"

"Who?" Bill asked.

"What's this?" Dennis wondered, picking up a very ugly bronze helmet from a fine table of dark wood with gold inlays.

"Oh, _that _would be from the Rebellion of 1612!" Hornbeak gasped. "_Very_ valuable! Quite historical! I believe the Ministry has been looking for one for ages!"

Dennis wrinkled his nose at it. "Do you like it?" He asked, and Hornbeak nodded. "You can have it, sir," Dennis offered it to him, "If you want it. I think it's awful!"

Hornbeak's jaw dropped. "You'd just _give _it to me?"

"Is that OK?" Dennis asked Bill.

"Well, we don't often give gifts to the Goblins," Bill pointed out. "He'll be obligated to give you one now, and that upsets them."

"You don't have to, sir," Dennis let go of the helmet. "I mean, what would I use it for?"

"You have a very rare boy here, Potter," Hornbeak smiled, putting the helmet on. It shrank to fit his head. "I don't know what to say? It's unprecedented!"

"Stylish," Harry complimented him.

"Why do you do this?" The Goblin asked.

"Because you helped me, and I like you!" Dennis smiled at him. "I don't see why we had all these problems?"

"You really don't expect, demand, want, or feel entitled to anything in return?" Hornbeak repeated.

"No, sir?" Dennis replied honestly. "I want you to have it, if you like it."

Hornbeak sat down, spilling over a pile of Galleons.

"Bill?" Dennis asked, "Is Mr. Hornbeak coming to audit or whatever...the weapons at school you said he could take?" Bill nodded. "Can you stay for dinner, and meet my friends?" Dennis asked him.

"Oh, I could get fired over all of this," Hornbeak fretted.

"We won't tell on you," Dennis grinned at him, "And you don't have to. Only if you want to."

Bill winked at Harry. Harry said nothing.

"I want to give this boy a gift, too," Hornbeak then decided. "A human child such as this should be protected, treasured even! Besides, he's just the right size!"

"Goblin gifts are unheard of," Bill reminded him. "What _will_ your fellows think, sir?"

"_They_ don't need to know," Hornbeak shrugged. He snapped his fingers, and what looked like a wrist-cuff of a chrome-toned metal appeared in his hand. It was without seam, did not open, and bore a large rectangular ruby almost flush with its surface. It was about twice as thick as a wedding ring, in depth, Harry thought, as he looked at it. It was broad enough to run from Dennis' wrist to a quarter of the way to his elbow. There were Runes etched on it, as well as words in Goblin language.

"You don't have to, sir," Dennis repeated. "But what _is_ it? It's very pretty!"

"This is a Goblin Cuff of Protection, crafted by my family centuries ago from the finest silver and a bit of metallic ore taken from a meteorite, which they called a falling star," Hornbeak explained. "In fact, they called it the 'Star Cuff'. The ruby is your garden variety gemstone, although large, very common. It's the Goblin Runes you _want_!"

"Dennis," Bill advised, "It would be rude to refuse Mr. Hornbeak's gift. He wants you to have it, just as you wanted him to have the helmet."

"Is it safe?" Dennis asked.

Hornbeak laughed, a piercing, barking sound, and slapped his knee. "Oh, I _love_ this boy! **Khallovaar!**" He swore, "He's ready to start work here already, he's so good! For you, child, yes, it is safe. I give you my word."

"I think that means a lot?" Dennis asked. Hornbeak nodded.

"Fine by me," Harry said, as Bill nodded to him.

Hornbeak put the cuff on Dennis' wrist, sliding it on over his hand, and it shrank down to fit him snugly. It was warm, and it tingled. It was also quite heavy. "The cuff will protect you from _any_ Dark Magic, Dennis Creevey," Hornbeak explained, "So long as you wear it. No one can remove it, save for you. Just snap your fingers, and it will vanish. Snap them again, and it will reappear. It will never need cleaning, and will alert you to those with evil intent. The ruby will give you light in the darkness, and the Runes will always point you to a friend. It is yours, for as long as you live."

"Thank you, sir!" Dennis smiled at him. Then he hugged him. Hornbeak wasn't sure what to do about that. He patted the boy's back awkwardly. "I love it!" He sniffed. "I wish Colin was here to see all this." He sighed and sat down, staring around at all the treasure. "I'd trade it all to have him back."

"You don't care that much for treasure?" Hornbeak wondered.

"I cared about my brother, but he's dead," Dennis sniffled, but he did not cry.

"Sadly, I cannot help with that," Hornbeak told him. "No one can."

"Sir, what happens if someone tries to use Dark Magic on me, then?" Dennis asked.

"The cuff will repel it back at him, and unleash upon him tenfold what he wanted to do to you," Hornbeak shrugged.

"Now he tells us," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Now, if I know Goblins," Dennis said, running his fingers over the cuff, "When I die, it goes back to you, or your son, or grandson?" Hornbeak nodded. "Tha's cool!" Dennis smiled. "Thank you, sir! So, you coming to dinner?"

"This is a _very_ strange boy, Potter," Hornbeak repeated. "I will, Dennis!"

"What do you like to eat?" Dennis asked.

"Goblins eat almost anything!" Hornbeak smiled, which was quite frightening to see.

"You want to stay here and audit your vault while we go to mine?" Harry asked, "I've never really explored it, either. Never had the time."

"The boy will be perfectly safe here," Hornbeak pointed out. "It's now his, no harm may come to him here. He may remove what he wishes, and the door will lock when he leaves."

"I'll stay," Bill offered. "Make sure there's nothing that I need to turn over to Mr. Hornbeak, as agreed."

Harry left with Hornbeak, and Bill and Dennis set in to auditing his vault. With Dennis' wand hovering over his head, and his cuff giving off much red light, it was like working in a photo darkroom.

"Denny, if this were Muggle money, you'd be a multimillionaire," Bill informed him. "You're a very rich little boy now."

Dennis looked confused. "Why'd they give it to me, though?" He asked.

"Because you were the one Jugson hurt the worst," Bill fibbed, "You don't remember some of it, it was so bad. You were unconscious for a while, sort of like Justin was."

"Oh," Dennis said very quickly. "Well, glad I don't remember it," he reasoned, "This nutter must have liked antiques," he picked up an old cedar box, trimmed all in gold, and opened it. "Wow, jewels!" Dennis said, as if he didn't care. Bill scanned it and declared it clean. Dennis dropped the jewelry box into his other pocket. Bill charmed them up so they wouldn't sag under the weight of the box and his coins.

They found things like rings, swords, daggers, shields, even a suit of armor. There were more stacks of coins, gold and silver bars, and even raw gemstones that just looked like rocks to Dennis. As he picked up a wicked hooked dagger, Dennis felt his cuff go cold and tighten. "This is Goblin-made," he said. "Mr. Hornbeak should get this."

"How do you know?" Bill asked.

"The cuff told me," Dennis shrugged, looking at some books. "**Untersuchem auf Blut Magie**"? Dennis asked.

"Oh _hell_ no!" Bill spluttered. "Denny, stay out of the books until I let Harry see them, OK? Actually, I think we'd better bring someone like Professor McGonagall or Andromeda in here with you."

"OK, but I'm _really_ hungry?" Dennis complained. "Can't we come back later?"

"This really doesn't mean _anything_ to you?" Bill asked, and Dennis shook his head. As they walked back out, the door closed. Bill waved his wand over the tracks. "Car please!" He said.

A car arrived with a new Goblin. "Could you take us to vault 768, please?" Bill asked, and with a four level wild ride again, Dennis forgot he was hungry. They found Harry and Hornbeak just coming out.

"Some other time," Harry sighed, "Damn, that thing is huge! There's a grand piano in the far corner?"

"I'm rich," Dennis shrugged. "Oh well. Can we go eat now?"

"Very strange child," Hornbeak repeated, as up they went.

"You wanna come have lunch?" Dennis asked the Goblin.

"No, thank you, I've eaten already," Hornbeak replied.

"Oh, I nearly forgot!" Bill pulled out a parchment from his robe. "This is all the information on the properties left to Dennis by his parents' estate," Bill explained. "He has yet to say what to do with it, but we'll need Gringotts to get the process started."

Hornbeak looked the document over. As he was reading, Dennis looked at Harry. "I just want a few things," he decided. "My stuff, Colin's stuff, a few keepsakes. Mr. Hornbeak can sell the rest off and just put the money in my vault. I don't wanna go back there."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked.

"We weren't safe there," Dennis shook his head. "They had to hide Mum and Dad. If it wasn't fer Professor Snape, we might be dead, too. I...I never lived anywhere else, but...it's an empty house now. It's not _home_ without them. I can't go back there. I don't want it."

"Nice place, in Kent!" Hornbeak mused, "Will fetch a nice price. Furnishings?"

Dennis shrugged. "Like the couch and stuff?" Hornbeak nodded. "Sell it." He thought for a minute. "Mr. Hornbeak, did the Goblins get it as bad as some of us did? In the war?"

"There _were_ families who protested the Dark Lord, and they were...injured," Hornbeak agreed.

"You could use it for like, orphan Goblin kids, then?" Dennis suggested. "Whatever you want to do with it, sir. I really don't care," Dennis then turned to hide his face in Harry's overcoat. He was trembling. Harry held him until it passed.

_As long as he can still cry,_ Harry recalled Hermione's words.

"I will deliver your personals, Dennis," Hornbeak assured him, "You are a very strange boy," he repeated again. "We could hide the house, as Mr. Potter's is, and use it for temporary lodging for disadvantaged families."

"Do that, and take 10% of it, then," Dennis sniffled, wiping his face. "You like 10%, don't you?"

"I do, indeed," Hornbeak patted his arm. "I will see you tonight, yes?"

"Yes, sir!" Dennis managed a smile for him.

And with that, they left.

"I can't believe you had a _Fianto Duri_ on you!" Bill snapped at Harry. "If it wasn't for the fact that Hornbeak's been itching to off Balfor, and wanted his job, you could have started a bloody war! Are you mad?!"

Harry shrugged, as they headed for a new fast food stand: Muggle Munchies. "It would have been a _short_ war," Harry said flatly.

Bill made an indelicate sound. "You're just damn lucky that high-ranking societal Goblins have a tendency to assassinate each other to move up!"

Dennis ordered a double chilli burger with onions and cheese, chips in ketchup, and a large fizzy drink. Bill looked at it and cringed. "This has got to be American food," he shook his head. "I can't believe you're practically giving Hornbeak your house, Denny?" He added.

Dennis didn't reply right away. Finally, he said, "He said there were Goblin kids out there as bad off as some of us. I bet no one cares about them, either." He pulled a small gold ingot from his pocket. The cashier gave him several Galleons and Sickles in change. "I couldn't lift the bars," Dennis shrugged.

Harry choked on his frankfurter. Bill pounded his back.

"I must say, you handled the Goblin well," Bill complimented him. "There were gold bars in there?

"All I did was be nice to him," Dennis shrugged. "Yeah, a stack of 'em behind that bookcase. Some old rocks, too. Why would you put a rock in the bank?

"No idea, but I was nice to him to the tune of about a half-million Galleons," Harry shuddered. "That's counting the gifts for Xeno Lovegood, too!"

"Did you ever get to 711, Sirius' vault?" Bill asked. Harry shook his head. "Pocket change," Bill shrugged. "Oh, and there's books and such in there that I don't want Denny to see, Harry. I think you'd best have Andromeda or Mum and Dad go through those. Jugson must have had an interesting career?"

"Shite, I borrowed a book from Malfoy," Harry remembered, "Guess it's mine now," he shrugged.

Dennis had finished his lunch by then, and was nodding in his chair when they heard a woman's voice, which reminded Harry of cats dancing on a blackboard.

"Harryyyyy Potter!" Rita Skeeter screeched at him, "I hear you've had a big day today, _again_?"

Harry glared at her and her acid green quill hovering behind her. "Rita, I have two words for you - Volucris Interneco. Remember them. And don't ever come near my child again. I will be doing my interviewing with Xeno Lovegood from now on."

Rita blanched. "Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise," Harry said through clenched teeth.

"I hear that Denny here is quite the young philanthropist?" Rita pressed on, as if she'd not heard him. "A Goblin lover? So just how much are you worth now, Denny?"

"Mr. Hornbeak is my friend!" Dennis informed her, "And my name is Dennis, to you! Now get lost, you nosy bitch!" He then got up and kicked her shin. Rita screamed. "How _dare_ you? I'll have the Aurors on you for assault!" She threatened him.

"Yes?" Harry and Bill both pulled badges. "Kingsley brought mine the other day," Harry informed her. "Junior grade, in training. What can I do for you, Miss?" He grinned wickedly.

"You killed that Goblin in there!" Rita accused him, as her quill scribbled on.

"He committed suicide," Harry smirked. "He was warned."

"Just like Malfoy?" Rita persisted, ignoring Dennis now. It was her mistake, as she shoved past him. "It seems that people that don't like you are suddenly all dropping dead, Potter?"

"You leave us alone!" Dennis pulled his wand. "AVERTE STATEM!" He yelled, and Rita was blasted backward to land in an open rubbish bin. She peeked back up over the edge, wand in hand, as her quill scribbled it all down. "INCENDIO!" Dennis flicked his wand, setting the quill and paper on fire. The bin's lid came down and smacked her on the head. With a scream, she apparated out. But Dennis wasn't done yet. "SECTUM-..."

Harry cut across him, raising a shield and covering his mouth. He disarmed Rita, picked up her wand and snapped it, dropping the pieces on the ground. "Don't _ever_ come near us again, Skeeter! Or I'll do worse than charge you with harassment!" Harry snarled. "Last warning!"

"I'll get you for this Potter – you and your little pup, _too_!" Rita snapped at him. Then her eyes went wide as she glared at Harry. She suddenly doubled over, twitching, then fell to the sidewalk.

Then Rita Skeeter began to scream.

Harry and Bill looked to see Dennis' wand pointed at her, but Harry's hand still over his mouth. The wand's tip was glowing red, as was the ruby in Dennis' Goblin cuff. Harry grabbed the wand, and pocketed it, just in time as Auror Proudfoot apparated in.

"What's going on?" He demanded. "One of the new Dark Magic Detectors we've laid in the Alley just went off – said a Cruciatus Curse were being used here, and some kind of banned Goblin magic in use?"

Harry handed him Colin's wand. Proudfoot checked it. He checked Bill's. He checked Harry's holly wand. He looked down at Skeeter's busted wand. "That woman attacked my Godson," Harry then said, and Bill gasped. "I admit, I shoved her. I was afraid for the boy's safety. She assaulted him."

"These wands are clean," Proudfoot handed them back. "Been banking, I see? Surprised the Goblins didn't try to murder you?"

"One did, he sort of … vaporized," Harry shrugged.

"Balfor?"

"Yep."

"Good riddance to bad management," Proudfoot shrugged, taking Rita into custody. She protested and spluttered, dripping garbage, her oversize glasses askew, as Proudfoot hauled her off. "Off all the _gall_, trying to Cruciate a little boy!" He growled at her. "Hope you don't mind waiting in jail a year for a trial! We're rather backed up, due to Harry's brilliant idea."

"Potter, you...you...EVIL FREAK!" Rita shrieked at him.

"Oh, sir?" Harry called after them, "You might want to have a large glass jar handy? You see, Rita's an unregistered Animagus. She's a ladybird beetle!"

"Damn you, Potter!" Rita shrieked at him.

Harry raised his wand. "Two words?" He reminded her. "Or perhaps a can of RAID, that the Muggles use?"

Rita closed her mouth, a look of rapt horror on her face.

"She was warned," Harry shrugged, turning to Dennis. He gave him back his own wand. "_Where _did you learn that Curse I think you were about to use?"

"In school?" Dennis shrugged.

"Last syllable?" Harry asked.

"-sempra."

"Do you _know_ what it does?" Harry said slowly.

"Yes, sir?" Dennis replied coldly, pulling up his robe to show him a six inch long scar on his thigh that might have gelded him, had it been an inch higher.

"Oh, _boy_," Bill sighed, looking away.

"Can we go to WWW now?" Dennis asked. "You promised?"

Harry considered it. "_Yes,_ we can, son!" He smiled. "That was some nice Hex casting, you know, Denny! I'm proud of you!"

"_Harry_!" Bill objected, "What's wrong with this picture?"

"There's no ice cream stand?" Harry guessed.

"I'm heading back to Hogwarts, right then? Stay out of trouble?" Bill said.

"Us?" Harry smiled at him, as Bill shook his head and vanished into a white swirl. _Dennis was casting a Cruciatus, __**wordlessly**__,_ he fretted, _Damn, what did those monsters teach these kids last term?_

As soon as Bill Weasley arrived back at Hogsmeade, he went straight to the building that George and Ron were fixing up for their new outlet. He gathered up the rest of his family, then they sought out McGonagall, Andromeda, and the remaining professors who knew Harry well. Then they gathered up Harry's closest friends.

Bill told them the story, going so far as to copying his memory into the Pensieve for a 3D projection.

When it was finished, they all sat around the Head's office, stunned.

"_How_ did Harry manage to place a lethal protective enchantment on his person?" Hermione gasped, "You can't _do_ that in a place like Gringotts!"

"He anticipated trouble, and he was offering reparations," Bill reminded them. "He did warn Balfor,though, just as he warned Rita." Hermione didn't look satisfied, though.

"How long, do you think, Harry knew her secret?" Andromeda wondered.

"We figured it out in Fourth Year, when she was printing all that gossip," Ron spoke up.

"And you didn't _tell _anyone?" Molly gasped.

"It shut her up for a while," Ron shrugged.

"I don't like the idea of this Goblin's gift to Dennis, either," McGonagall put in.

"Nor do I," the portrait of Albus Dumbledore added. "But there seems to be no catch to it – it was a genuine gift, or rather, a loan – as _we_ see it. Hornbeak seems to actually like the boy, although the Ministry will have fits when they find out about that helmet!" He shook his head. "If Hornbeak breaks the secrets of how it's enchanted to repel Goblin magic...?"

"You know, if we'd had a better History teacher, we might _know_ things like this," Bill offered. "It didn't scan as dangerous?"

"Not to you, no," Dumbledore clarified, "And having a child running amok in the castle with a cuff on his wrist that cannot be removed, and can repel a Curse tenfold, _and_ can summon Goblin aid in time of need, is something dangerous as well."

Bill looked thoughtful, "What if a Goblin curse hits it?"

"_That_," Dumbledore grinned, "Is _why_ I can't believe he gave it to Dennis. It would repel the curse, of course, but being a Goblin thing, it could well wipe an entire regiment of Goblin soldiers – as well as anything else in its path when the curse turns. _Now_ do see why Goblin Rebellions have always been so bloody?"

"And if Professor Binns had presented it like that," Dean added, "We'd have been _interested_ and known it! Well, at least the boys. They love tales like that!"

"Seems like a stalemate to me, though," Neville spoke up, "Knowing how Harry feels about Denny now, and how the world feels about Harry? And they've got that helmet now? It'd be like mutual annihilation? Maybe Hornbeak was trying to...take out insurance, against any more problems? Is that the phrase?"

"But what bothers me," Hermione reminded them, "Is that Harry put a _lethal_ ward on himself, knowing fully that he could be attacked. In fact, it was likely! And what he did to Rita? What DENNIS did to her?!"

"Apparently Denny learned well last term," Neville sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"But the fact remains – they _did_ it!" Bill pointed out, "You've all just seen it!"

"I can see Harry yelling at her," Hagrid nodded, "Even threatening her. We all say things, yeh know. But with what she's done? She were warned!" He shook his head. "I can't see our Harry jus' goin' about murderin' folks!"

"He didn't kill Zach Smith," Dean put in.

"But _would_ he, if you hadn't been there?" Bill asked.

"And there's no evidence he contributed to Draco's suicide," Andromeda reminded them, "Although, Merlin – it's terrible to say – _I_ won't miss the little prat, but I do pity Cissy. Losing a child is just..." she left it hanging, adjusting Teddy's blanket.

"Let's not forget either, that you three withheld vital information to a crime," Arthur spoke up, looking at Ron and Hermione. "Unregistered Animagi are sort of frowned upon! What Rita did is _exactly _why! It was a compromise of security!"

"Be that as it may," Professor Sprout spoke up, "Did any of you notice what _Creevey _did? When Rita went down screaming? He was casting a wordless Cruciatus at her, and attempted a potentially lethal Sectum-I-won't-say-it curse at her, too! Now, don't take this wrong! I'm grateful for what Harry's done, yes! I feel for how his childhood was ruined, yes! But I have to admit, I was never so emotionally attached to him as the rest of you lot. Did he discipline Dennis for this? No. What did he do? Encouraged him, and rewarded him with a trip to WWW? A few years ago, and the boy would be spending life in prison for doing that!"

"A few years ago, he would never have known of it," Neville pointed out.

"But aren't we failing to take the psychological damage into account?" Madame Hooch offered, "I may be 'emotionally attached' to the both of them, prejudiced – even – since they're both such good flyers! But Denny's been traumatized!"

"Haven't we all?" Dean countered.

"It's hard to _not_ use what you were beaten half to death with," Neville offered. "Denny's immature, impressionable – just like the rest of the younger kids. Do we get him a counselor, or just put him away, then?"

"My point," Sprout reminded him, "To me, he's 'Dennis Creevey'. To some of you, he's 'Denny'. Where you see a traumatized little boy in need of help, I see a potentially dangerous child holding a very large...gun? Is that the Muggle word?"

Arthur nodded. "So are we questioning Harry's ability to care for a child?"

"He tends to get upset and somewhat angry when he wants Teddy and he's not around," Andromeda added, I don't know about that, Arthur, but I think we've just learned what can happen if you cross him on that."

"It's not a secret how he feels about Dennis," Madame Pomfrey informed them, "Although I'd have never believed it before now."

"What you're all also overlooking," Ginny finally spoke up, standing, "Is that Harry never even knew what love_ was _until he came here! And then, from what he's told me, the _only _concept of love that he had was what his parents did for him, Lily especially! Or what he saw in our house, when he was there on rare occasion." She looked at her parents. "Do you love him?" They both nodded. "But did you ever _say_ those four words to his _face_? Has anyone in this room ever said, 'I love you, Harry!' right to him?"

No one said a word.

"It isn't the same," Ginny went on, her voice lower now, "If you think that a child as damaged as Harry can just observe it all around him, and get the idea, I think we've all made a _huge_ mistake, then." She sat back down. "I hate to say it, but the more I think about it, I think our world's just been saved by someone with only a fraction more of the concept than Voldemort had."

"But Lord Voldemort was _unable_ to feel love," Dumbledore reminded them, "Due to his conception under the influence of a love potion. He shook his head. "We're talking about polar opposites here, people. Love had been the very _thing_ that has driven Harry's life forward, to this point."

"Did _you _love him, or were you just using him, Headmaster? If you did, as you seem to claim, did _you_ ever tell him that?" Ginny asked.

Dumbledore didn't reply.

"What Harry may be projecting onto Teddy and Dennis is his _own_ skewed perception of love, then," Andromeda theorized, "_Or_, he may just regard it as another source of power. Can any of us really define 'love'?"

"Or," Neville spoke up again, "He could be running on almost eighteen years of _hurt_, believing that anything opposite of what he knows is love."

"One has to admit," Hermione nodded to him, "Things are looking very suspect. I'm worried about Harry, and we need to keep an eye on him. But doesn't he deserve some tolerance? With all he's been through? With all he's done?"

"Maybe that's what he's counting on?" Bill countered. "You know kids, Mum? What does it look like to you? You let Ronnie get away with anything, when he was little, remember?"

Molly hesitated. When she finally spoke, it was very softly. "It looks like, from what we just saw, that the both of them are pushing the limits, seeing what they can get away with. You _all _did it!" She looked around at her remaining children.

"You never put bars on our windows, though, Mum," Ron said, "Or locked us up in a dark cupboard for days on end. I've been thinking..."

"Imagine that!" George laughed. Ron made a face at him.

"It was about something Harry said, right after the repairs started," Ron went on, "He said something like 'I will not let something like this happen again.' And well, it gave me a chill when he said it. And when I was teasing him about treating Dennis like he did Teddy, he got really...annoyed? It was the look on his face, really?" He looked around at them all. "For a minute, I thought he was gonna curse me, or hit me?" Ron reminded them. "You had to see it, I guess?"

"I still can't believe Harry would hurt anyone of us, wha' had a hand in bringin' him up, an' keepin' him safe," Hagrid repeated. "Tha's not the Harry I know!"

"The Harry you know, Hagrid," Sprout said, "Is a child who came to see you when he needed someone. You exposed him to our world, and he trusted you, so he came to you. But that child has grown up!"

"I think what we're getting at, Hagrid," Arthur had to agree, "Is that the Harry Potter we _knew_, or _thought_ we knew, isn't _that_ Harry anymore! Circumstances have forced him to evolve into someone else – perhaps someone that we no longer really know."

"So what do we do about it, then?" Ron asked them all, "Because you might not know it, but Harry's still carrying the Elder Wand!"

"Yes, it exists," Dumbledore confirmed it, "For those that didn't know. I find this highly disturbing, as Harry never showed any interest in things like the Philosopher's Stone, the Sword of Gryffindor, Time Turners, or the like."

"He said he promised Colin that he'd look after Dennis," Ron mumbled.

"What?!" Hermione gasped. "Ronald, as far as we know, the last time any of us saw Colin Creevey was in Sixth Year, and that was mainly in the Common Room, or in passing. Sometimes at meals, perhaps? But I noticed he wasn't so...exuberant? _When_ would Harry have told him that?"

"_Any_ time, if he used the Resurrection Stone," Ron turned to her, his face grim. "What if he went back to the Forest and found it?"

"He give Denny detention with me, fer sneakin' inter tha Forest," Hagrid nodded.

"Then that means his cloak is...?" George asked.

"THE cloak, yes," Ron nodded. "Turns out the bedtime story wasn't just a story."

"And Harry now possesses all three of the fabled Deathly Hallows?" McGonagall gasped, looking up at Dumbledore's portrait, "Albus, you could have let us in on this plan!"

"Too risky. It were bad enough, bringing Severus in on parts of it," Dumbledore replied.

"He had _me_ fooled," McGonagall sniffed.

"Events would seem to show that I may have made a grave error," Dumbledore admitted, "Perhaps I have sadly misjudged Harry's character? I never imagined that he would keep the Hallows, much less _use_ them! Well, the cloak, yes...I encouraged that one."

"You'd think that in ten year's time, you could have checked up on him, after dumping him with those awful Muggles," Molly accused him. "When Arthur was there that one time to collect him, he said they were the rudest people he'd ever met! What were you thinking, Albus?!

"I wanted to keep him as far way from our world as possible," Dumbledore replied.

"So what we've got on our hands now," Andromeda said, "Is a man raised without love, and also carrying around the most powerful weapons _ever_ known to have existed? How do you deal with, much less – defeat – someone like that?"

"The same way I took the Elder Wand from Gellert Grindelwald," Dumbledore replied.

"Yeah, just how _did_ you do that?" Ron asked.

"Even one who is invincible may be defeated, if he chooses to_ not_ defend himself," Dumbledore winked at him. "If you've read Rita Skeeter, you'll know that he and I were _very_ close! Given the choice of killing me, or accepting defeat, he chose defeat."

"Pity the one to force _Harry_ to make that choice!" Ron groaned.

"Indeed," Dumbledore sighed.


	8. Chapter 8-Quibbling

**Dark Mirror X**

**8**

**Quibbling**

"_**I wanna know what love is."-©Foreigner  
"Seasons will change, you must move on."-©'86-GTR**_

As the month of June arrived, Hogwarts Castle was beginning to look like its old self again. There were still a few missing turrets and damage to the least-used upper floors, but most of this damage was now superficial. Professor Sprout was beside herself with the new greenhouse, and the repairs to the others. She was also elated to find that Neville Longbottom had planned to retake the _real_ NEWT test, to further his education for an advanced degree in Herbology. The grounds were coming back to life as well, and the tent city on the lawn had dwindled to about two-thirds of what it had become. There were, after all, other things to rebuild than Hogwarts.

The Astronomy Tower was once again fully functional, but Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley weren't watching the stars as the new month arrived. "You're still worried about being murdered by an angry mob of Weasley men?" Ginny laughed at him.

"I am," Harry smiled at her, pulling up the blanket. The night breeze that had begun to blow over their sweaty bodies was now uncomfortably chilling, given the heat that they'd been making in the small alcove near the top for the last few hours. "To say nothing of what your mother would do!" Harry hastily added.

"You're such a baby," Ginny teased him, kissing his nose.

"Don't _say _that word!" Harry gasped. "Not _yet_, at least!"

"Contraceptive Charm, remember?" Ginny giggled. "Besides, I have to see if I'm a Seventh Year, or repeating Sixth," She reminded him. "Can't just run out and get married, now, can we? What about you older lot? Has anyone other than Hermione decided?"

"Well, Hermione's a given, isn't she?" Harry smiled back at her, absently nuzzling at her neck. "Just as much as Ron is. He won't be back, and Neville's more than likely going into training with Professor Sprout. No idea about Seamus, but I'd wager that he'll go into Auror training, too. That or something Quidditch related," Harry paused. "_Married_? Ron and Hermione?" Harry mused, "Somehow, I can't see it?"

"Dean said he's coming back for his Seventh Year," Ginny commented, ignoring his alarm. "You know, he _was_ rubbish at snogging," she added, feeling Harry tense a bit.

"I know how he felt, having to hide it like that, I mean, his orientation," Harry agreed, pausing long enough for another rather serious kiss. "The years I knew I wanted you, and I couldn't, because of the risks. I had to just sit there and watch while you went to the ball with Neville, or dated Dean, or any of those other tossers I wanted to _toss_ off this roof!"

Ginny groaned. "That was a bad pun, Harry Potter, and a lot of tossing," she informed him. "But you're right. I feel bad for Dean and Justin now, too."

"I hear he's almost ready to try and walk by himself," Harry said, but it was clear that he wasn't really interested in Justin Finch-Fletchley's well-being at that moment. "Of course, if he can't walk, he can't very well get away!" Harry leered at her.

"Good," Ginny gasped, as Harry prepared to enter her again. "_Really_?" She groaned.

"Aurors have to have stamina," Harry smiled at her.

"Do you ever wonder how two boys can..." she began to ask.

"NO," Harry gasped, "Nor do I _care_!"

It was Ginny's turn to gasp.

As they again became one flesh under the light of the nearly full moon, a howl echoed somewhere on the far edge of the Forbidden Forest, off towards the mountains. Sparkles of multicolored dust surrounded them once again, and Harry's mind spun madly as his brain finally acknowledged what he is ears were telling him.

_They would have sacked Remus for being a werewolf.  
Teddy's a werewolf.  
Are they off to an early start this month?  
Dennis' Patronus is a wolf.  
Hagrid and McGonagall have got the Teddy-thing well in hand.  
I can't believe she's transfiguring him into a puppy!  
What about when Teddy comes to school?  
What about Dennis when your training classes begin?_

Such were the distractions that almost kept Harry from climax that last time of the night. But he did, and as _she_ did, Ginny whispered, "I love you, Harry."

He didn't reply immediately, and that worried Ginny. He simply stared at her, but when he spoke, his next words shocked her.

"I want to know what love is," Harry mumbled, a lost look on his face. "Is this love, or just passion?"

Ginny didn't know what to say. She feared it was just as they'd suspected. But how could she define love? Recite the dictionary entry?

"Love is what you felt when you first held Teddy," she tried. "It was what you felt when Sirius first embraced you, and you him. Love was what you saw in the photographs, Harry, of you and your parents, and all the ones that Colin left you. I think you know, Harry – you just don't want to accept it, for fear that it'll be torn away again, like your parents were. Like Sirius was. Love was that sickening ache you felt all those times you saw me with someone else, years ago." She finished.

She waited.

"Then _I_ love _you_," He finally replied.

But Ginny was distracted as well, even though he'd returned those words.

_He was unloved for ten years.  
He didn't know what love was?  
Does he now, really?  
Was the example of your family so bad?  
Or is he just saying that?_

"Can you make it back down all right, or are you too tired?" Ginny asked, as she lit her wand. "It's really late, you know." She began to dress, looking over at the small basket he'd packed. "There's a bit of wine and cheese left," she offered._ So romantic, for someone who might not understand love, _she thought._ How can they possibly compare him to the Dark Lord, after this?_ She tried to fathom Voldemort having sex, wooing a lady with a picnic basket. Then she thought better of it. Another thought came to her: what if a student walked up on them? She dressed faster.

They nibbled a bit of cheese and sipped wine as they watched the moon. Owls hooted, and a wolf howled. There was staccato bark, then a yip. "Bad Teddy!" They heard Hagrid shout, all the way from his cabin. Harry couldn't help but to laugh.

"It's not funny!" Ginny gasped.

"It isn't, but it _is_," Harry chuckled. "McGonagall and Hagrid are sure they can domesticate him. She wants him to become the youngest Animagus in history, too. She's been transfiguring him into a wolf puppy, manually, just like Moody, well our fake-Moody, did to Draco!"

"That was a ferret," Ginny reminded him. "And Draco..."

"Yeah, I know," Harry sighed. "_Damn_."

"Well, at this phase, as a cat, she could easily beat up his puppy form," Ginny realized, changing back to the original subject.

"Only Hagrid would think he could tame a natural-born werewolf pup. Of course, right now, he's perfectly safe, as a fake-wolf," Harry grinned. "Merlin's pants, I have to be up in six hours, you know."

"Three months of intensive Auror training," Ginny mused, "What _will_ we do?"

"It's only one shift a day, so they can send me back here to help with the restoration," Harry assured her. "It's like a real job!"

"As if _you_ need one, Mr.-I-have-two-vaults-of-treasure!" Ginny laughed.

"You only love me for my money, then?" Harry grinned.

"That, and one that _isn't _in the bank," Ginny smiled.

"Well, Andromeda won't let me rest on my piles of gold," Harry sighed, "She says I have to have a job, set a good example for Teddy and Dennis."

"Speaking of which," Ginny went on, packing up the basket, "It's been over a week and a half now? When is _**The Quibbler **_going to run your story? It's all Luna's talked about since you got the new presses for them?"

"Tomorrow's edition, first of the month," Harry replied, "Seeing as how _**The Prophet**_ seems to have gone quiet on me of late."

"Well, you _did_ put Rita in jail," Ginny laughed, "Where the nasty old cow belongs!"

"Now, now, the jury is still out on whether Miss Skeeter is a nasty old cow," Harry laughed.

"Guilty as charged!" Ginny disagreed, as they got up to go. "Maybe we could transigure her into a real cow, and leave her in Hagrid's paddock?" Ginny grinned.

"You know, I never shagged anyone up here before," Harry admitted. "Why does everyone want to come up here? It's a hard floor, it's cold at night, and one wrong move and over the edge you go!"

"Well I should _hope_ you never did!" Ginny exclaimed.

"Let's try the greenhouses next," Harry suggested.

"And risk being grabbed by a Tentacula?" Ginny laughed. "Oh my! You know, I walked in on Mum and Dad once!"

Harry snickered, picturing the scene.

"I screamed!" Ginny went on. "I thought she was murdering him!"

"Hang on, your Mum was...?" Harry didn't want to say it.

"She _was_," Ginny confirmed, "But let's not quibble over details!"

"Oh_ dear, _these Weasley women," Harry fretted, as they headed on down. When they reached the ground floor and turned to head up to Gryffindor Tower, they heard voices. Harry pulled Ginny back, shushing her.

"So I said to Colin, no – you squeeze _both _the melons at the same time!" Dennis' voice carried up from the Cellar level.

Someone was laughing – a man.

"Oh, you don't know how many students I've caught out of bed sneaking into the kitchens, my boy!" Mr. Filch said.

Harry and Ginny's jaws both dropped as they mouthed the two words: _Filch laughing_?

Coming up the stairs, sure enough, was the usually grumpy old Caretaker, with Dennis – who was holding the new kitten.

"I think the House Elves like Mrs. Morris," Dennis was saying. "I was afraid you wouldn't want her, you know."

They watched as Mr. Filch took the kitten back. "Well, since school's technically out, I suppose it's all right," the caretaker mused, "But boy, come September first, you better _stay_ in that bed of yours, or I'll _have_ yeh!" They both laughed.

"You have to catch me first, Mr. F.!" Dennis coaxed him.

"Mister F.?" They both whispered to each other in shock.

"You just promise me you'll give me a run fer me money!" Filch tussled his hair, taking the kitten from him. "Now, off ter bed! It's late! If Harry wakes up and sees you gone, he'll have the whole village up here looking fer yeh!"

"Hey, what if I get to be a Fifth Year, and they make me a _Prefect_?" Dennis suddenly realized. "They patrol sometimes? Will you teach me how to patrol, sir?"

"Well, since you named our new cat after a Muggle TV-star cat, yes!" Filch nodded.

Harry palmed his face.

"Things are getting _strange_ around here," Ginny whispered.

"As if they _weren't _last term?" Harry wondered. "Let's give Denny a minute to think he's gotten away with it, shall we?"

"You're an _awful _parent," Ginny joked, "Next thing you know, you'll be loaning him your Cloak and the Marauders' Map!"

"I've heard that," Harry admitted, "And I've also noticed everyone seems to be walking very carefully around me, or watching everything I do. _Why_ is that?" He added, his voice lower now, and with something of an edge.

"We're worried about you, Harry," Ginny confessed. "You have to admit, the last few weeks since the battle have been...unique? You scared Ron, you know," she decided to chance that. "When you yelled at him about Dennis?"

"I didn't _yell_," Harry corrected her flatly. He stopped on the stairs and stared at her. They stood there long enough for the staircase to change. "I'm going to put a stop to that annoying behaviour, wonder no one's been killed by these crazy things! You could fall over the edge, or be crushed, lose a foot! This place is a deathtrap!" he decided. "This is all about the Malfoys, Balfor, Smith, and Rita, isn't it?"

"Do you _hear_ yourself?" Ginny asked. "That list you just rattled off?"

"I _know_ what it looks like," Harry snapped, as they continued on up. As they entered the Tower, Harry paused again. "_Don't_ tell me you think that _I_...?" He looked stunned.

"No," Ginny replied quickly, perhaps too quickly. "And I think Smith and Rita got what they deserved."

"Goodnight, Ginny," Harry said curtly, as he started up the boys' staircase.

"_That_ went well," Ginny told herself, as she reluctantly went to report to Hermione about the incident. _Well, most of it,_ she decided.

In the weeks since the disastrous trip to Gringotts, things had been relatively quiet for Harry. Dinner with Hornbeak had gone off without a hitch, although Bill had nearly been beside himself about having a Goblin as a dinner guest. Many of the others were as equally worried, but Dennis had been a wonderful (if not tiring) host and handled it quite well.

His gift, the Cuff of Protection, hadn't caused any troubles either. The new Wards had not gone off about it, there was no strange behaviour from it, and everyone's analysis of it had turned up nothing at all out of the ordinary. "As if a gift like that from a Goblin is _ordinary_," Bill had finally been forced to admit in defeat, after driving Dennis to distraction in his studies of it.

"Just remember, you've _got _to deactivate it when school starts," Harry warned him, "There's no way you can participate in DADA with it on!" He looked at him more closely. "What's wrong?" He asked.

"Is Mr. Lovegood going to print what you and I told him, Harry?" Dennis asked worriedly. "He's not gonna call you 'The Boy Who Lies' is he?"

"No, Denny, we can trust him," Harry assured him, remembering how Xeno Lovegood had tried to turn them in to get Luna back. _Yeah, __**now **__we can_...Harry thought, _But he did it out of love,_ he told himself, _Right then, is that something else love can do? _He argued mentally with himself, wondering at the paradox he perceived.

"Tell you what we'll do – we'll read it together when we get our advance issue, after we both get off work, all right?" Harry promised Dennis.

"OK," Dennis grinned, "Mr. Filch is gonna show me all the good hiding places, and which Portraits are squealers!"

Harry palmed his face again. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

"Harry, where were you and Ginny last night?" Dennis asked, as Harry sat on the edge of his bed while the boy settled in. Across the way, Ron looked up from his book on Advanced Charms for his new job in research and development with George.

"Where were _you_?" Harry countered.

"Shadowing Mr. Filch, _re_member?" Dennis grinned maliciously at him.

"_You_ were the one who gave him detention," Ron smirked, "So, where _were_ you?"

"Snogging on the Astronomy Tower," Harry confessed, reaching for his copy of _**The Quibbler **_on the night stand, right next to Dennis' wand. He flicked the wand, and the covers snugged up to the boy, effectively sealing him in his bed. "Lesson in DADA – that Cuff won't repel Charms that are funny or harmless, and indirectly directed at you!" He looked back at Ron.

"Hard floor, cold air, not to mention falling off. Never understood why Lavender liked it so much," Ron sniffed. Harry blinked at him. "Oh good grief, Harry! I've _got_ to get over it, don't I now? Before Ginny curses me bollocks off?"

"Lauren wanted to snog once," Dennis made a retching sound.

"Better than_ Nigel _wanting to snog," Ron commented.

"HEY!" Dean protested. "You're just lucky Justin still sleeps a lot, or I wouldn't be here!"

"Madame P. threw you out when you tried?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Dean admitted. "Just because he can't walk yet or use his left hand too good doesn't mean he's gonna die! We're past that part! _I_ can take care of him now!"

"Why don't you start looking into being a medic, or a physician's assistant then?" Harry offered.

Dean seemed to consider it. "They do make a lot of money," he reasoned.

"You're reading _**The Quibbler**_ as a bedtime story?" Ron inquired.

"I'm a bit_ old_ for bedtime stories," Dennis reminded him.

"It's my big interview," Harry smiled. "I think you'll like it!"

"Well why didn't you _say_ so?" Ron gasped. "We have to wait for Neville! Did you mail Seamus a copy?"

"Luna did," Harry nodded.

So they waited for Neville, playing the Every Flavor Bean game until he arrived. Once again, Dennis and Ron were into competition, but Dennis lost on the beef liver flavored one when he nearly vomited!

"Right then, Luna wouldn't let me see the advance copy, so let's hear it!" Neville said, as he flopped on his bed, looking very much like a child anxious for a bedtime story. Harry smiled at that, and for just an instant, he again saw the nervous, little round-faced boy who couldn't seem to do anything right.

**The _Quibbler_ Presents:  
An Interview with Harry Potter  
-**

**In his first interview since _The Battle of Hogwarts,_ Harry Potter has agreed to address some topics, and hopefully allay some rumors that have cropped up recently. We would also like to thank Mr. Potter for getting us up and running here again, as our operation was destroyed just before the Battle. Your owls of support have been appreciated!**

"Yeah, 'cuz he tried to bloody well sell us out," Ron snorted, "Bloody Erumpent horn!"  
Neville threw a pillow at him.

**The biggest question on everyone's mind, I believe, is this matter of wands. Many people reported seeing The Dark Lord using the wand of Albus Dumbledore during the Battle? They've also suggested it may have been the legendary Elder Wand? What can you tell us about that, or the Deathly Hallows combined?**

_**Voldemort was indeed using Professor Dumbledore's wand, yes. He'd stolen it from the tomb, foolishly believing that it was, in fact, The Elder Wand. He then decided that the wand was not performing for him as he thought it should, which led to his killing Professor Severus Snape – believing the tale of the trail of murder that has followed The Elder Wand since the tale began. He thought the wand belonged to Snape, as he was the one who had killed Dumbledore. However, Draco Malfoy had disarmed the Professor, when he decided to attempt betrayal of the Death Eaters. So, not only did the Professor's wand, which was indeed made of elder, a member of the maple family, belong to Draco, that also made Voldemort's assumption wrong. The wand did not belong to Snape at all, but rather, Draco. However, I had disarmed Draco when captured and taken to Malfoy Manor just before, so the wand actually belonged to me. Unfortunately for Voldemort, as I had learned from Mr. Ollivander, wands do sort of have feelings and do 'think', in a way. Voldemort turned a wand that was mine upon me, and it refused to fire on me. That was his undoing. I hate to burst everyone's balloons, though, but the wand of Dumbledore was simply very old, well trained, and quite powerful – it was NOT the famed Elder Wand, as I personally do not believe that these Hallows-things really exist. They are, I'd think, as fantastical as they are, nothing more than children's bedtime stories.**_

"You _don't_, huh?" Ron smirked.

"Deathly Hallows?" Dennis asked.

"Never mind," Harry read on:

**About Professor Snape then? Word is, he was a Death Eater, and hated you? He even killed Dumbledore, you said? Yet some say he was a double-agent? Can you explain this?**

_**Severus Snape was a spy for Dumbledore and the Order of Phoenix, you see. It's very complicated, but to be brief – Snape allied with the Death Eaters in the first war. However, when Voldemort ordered the death of the Muggleborn witch that he loved deeply, Snape turned on him. He sold out, and in doing so for love, I believe, cast the same ancient magic that my mother cast when she offered her life for me. This is why the Killing Curse turned on Voldemort, and destroyed him, rather than killing me as a baby. It also protected Snape from them ever finding out what he was doing, as he did it all for love. Without him, I believe, I couldn't have defeated Voldemort as I did. Maybe not at all. He was the bravest man I ever knew, and he killed Dumbledore as part of the master plan. You see, the Headmaster was already terminally ill, and he was very old. He had arranged his death with Snape, to die with dignity, in combat of evil, and to pass his very powerful wand to Snape. Draco blew that, admittedly, but in the end, it all worked out. Of course, there is more to the story of Severus Snape, and I plan to make it known later.**_

**About Draco Malfoy, and the tragedy right after your visit to Malfoy Manor? Some accuse you of murder, Mr. Potter, and somehow hiding it? Can you tell us what happened that night?**

_**I was unaware that the Malfoys were banned from doing magic, as part of their house arrest. It was my mistake, and a tragic one. I felt that it was only right to give Draco back his wand, you see, as he saved my life at Malfoy Manor by refusing to ID me to the Death Eaters. Namely, Bellatrix LeStrange and Fenrir Greyback. I would later save his life, but I still felt in debt to him. So I returned the wand to him. We had a long talk, and I was hopeful that with the signs he'd shown, that he was changing. It was my wish to make peace with him. I had no idea he'd do what he did – murdering his father, then turning the wand on himself. I had also forgotten that his wand was now mine, and that was why he was able to turn it upon himself. I thought that if I somehow conveyed it to the wand, by giving it to him in good faith, that it would acknowledge him again as its owner. I guess it didn't. When I think of his poor mother, I don't know what to think, really. She did so much for us, you see, just as Headmaster Snape did. It's a tragedy to see them both dead, really To lay that matter to rest, I will truly miss Draco.**_

**Can you tell us about Narcissa Malfoy? Why were you insistent on seeing her, given that it's public knowledge that you and the Malfoys despised one another?**

_**When I confronted Voldemort during his peace offer, it was my hope to end the battle and destroy him. I went to face him, unarmed. I was going to let him kill me, and he tried. But his Curse failed, again. It seems that I was better protected by that blood sacrifice than either of us knew, which was what I was also trying to do to begin with. I figured that if he killed me when I was offering myself up for everyone else, the same ancient magic would be cast. He then sent Narcissa to see if I were dead, and she said that I was! She lied to him, betrayed him, for her son's sake...to get back into the Castle, you see. It was the only way, having the Death Eaters march in with my dead body. They knew it would be over, if everyone saw me dead. They thought we'd all just give up the fight. She therefore cast that magic again, as Dumbledore believed, of love conquering all. And it worked. She risked her life for all of us, and I would put a stop to the rumors right here and right now. Narcissa did NOT kill her family, nor did I. I would also theorize that Mr. Malfoy was too intoxicated to even hold a wand. She'd had a nervous collapse beforehand, and wasn't even there, as Madame Poppy Pomfrey has testified to the Aurors. I would ask that everyone leave her alone, if not give her the respect that she deserves.**_

**But she was, in fact, a Death Eater herself? She did fight you in her home?**

_**At the time, yes. But that was before she made the decision to betray Voldemort. One also has to keep in mind, that she – and Draco – were only doing what they did under threat of death. As for Lucius Malfoy, I cannot speak to his motives, though. But in the end, I think that the ends justify the means.**_

**Can you tell us what took you all year long, almost, to get back and confront the Dark Lord? Why didn't you do it sooner?**

_**Voldemort used my blood in my Fourth Year to bring himself back to a physical body. In doing so, he not only AGAIN attempted to murder a child, as I was fourteen, but he also took into himself the protection that my mother had given me. It was a realm of Blood Magic best not tampered with, and he dared to do so. In the end, that made me the only one that could kill him. I don't fully understand it, sir, and I don't wish to. I would advise anyone else not to fool around with it, either. Dumbledore's theory holds that he was only able to come back because he was not really dead. Less than human, but more than a ghost, he had trapped himself in some sort of limbo. There were other Blood Magic devices he'd hidden throughout the country, though, and before I could finish him, all of those had to be destroyed as well. Again, it had to do with him using my blood, and his new body had to be the LAST thing to be destroyed. It was simply random chance that he'd hidden the last object at Hogwarts. As much as I'd have loved to have come back sooner to put a stop to what was going on there, I couldn't.**_

**There are rumors of Severus Snape, as Headmaster, actually going behind the Carrows' backs, and those of their security forces to insure that no students were killed or maimed? I believe your ward, Dennis Creevey, was one of them?**

_**Again, Professor Snape risked his life to protect the students, yes. He had to allow some harm to be done, to look good, however. In the end, before he died, he told me how much he regretted this. Yes, he did protect the Creevey brothers, as their Blood Status was, and is, debatable. However, not that that matters now or ever again. He saw the talent in these boys, who are descended from the MacCreevey and later, Reeves Lines of wizards who renounced their powers out of political intrigues. Or so the legend goes? Again, like the Deathly Hallows, I'm not sure I'd believe it, nor do I care. Blood status means nothing to me. But Professor Snape, in the end, was the real hero, and he too deserves our respect for making sure no students died under the Carrows' regime. Dennis tells me he even went as far as to contract the House Elves to hide and heal wounded students in the kitchens. While it appeared as if he were truly in league with Voldemort, and abandoned his post as Headmaster, he did not. And I feel that his Portrait deserves to be hung up in the Head's office with the rest.**_

"I'm not Muggleborn? Really?!" Dennis gasped.

"Do you care?" Neville asked him.

Dennis shrugged. "Not really, but...we're...I'm _really_ from an old line of wizards? Political intrigue?!" He wrinkled his nose in thought, "What's that?"

"I think they tried to bump off a king or something," Ron mused. Dennis threw a pillow at him. Harry went on, ignoring them:

**And you've adopted the orphaned Creevey boy? What can you tell us about that, and the ugly rumor that you only did it for his money in this precedent-setting settlement in his lawsuit against the Death Eater who tortured him? Do you think there will be more student testimonies?**

_**Dennis Reid Creevey has become my legal ward, yes. It was the final wish of his brother Colin that I do so, in the event that his parents were killed in the war. Being suspected of being Muggleborn, they were in hiding, as were many others. Still, the danger to them was clear and present, but it was a success up to the very end. They were attacked by a Death Eater, and Mr. Creevey shot him dead. I guess that most old-thinking wizards don't take Muggle weapons into account? I hear there are guns that can kill you from several kilometres away? This assertion that a drunk driver killed them is utter rubbish, another lie about me that the **Prophet** seems to like printing, something designed to harm an innocent child out of sheer sadism.  
As for his legal settlement and his money, I have no interest in that whatsoever. I have money of my own, a career coming, and I want for nothing that I do not already have. I have a job, a home, my friends, and now Dennis, and my Godson – Teddy Lupin. Dennis' money is of no consequence to me. And yes, I think there will be more students coming forward to tell their stories. In fact, he's been quite the philanthropist already, in making amends with the Goblins.**_

**And speaking of Goblins, you **really **broke into Gringotts? Why?**

_**Ron, Hermione, and I did do that, yes. One of Voldemort's pieces of Dark Blood Magic was stored there, and we had to destroy it. We had help from Mr. Griphook, who, in the end, did himself in by his own greed to possess the Sword of Gryffindor. The Sword, like wands, has feelings, it would seem. It apparently didn't like him, so it presented itself to Neville Longbottom at the Battle. Without Griphook, I am confident we could have still orchestrated the break in, though. Yet he betrayed us, thus soiling the name of his whole Line. Mr. Hornbeak has been most gracious in accepting a settlement of his definition as well, and all's well there again.**_

**What about this incident with Mr. Zacharias Smith? The street brawl?**

_**Another gossip-piece printed by the ever-disreputable **Prophet**, sir. Mr. Smith accosted Dean Thomas and I, harassing us over my adoption of Dennis, Dean's absence during the last term at Hogwarts, Dean's Blood Status, and other things not fit to print here, sir. I warned him, but he continued his verbal assault. When he tried to attack me, I retaliated. I admit, it may have been a bit much. However, one does not attack someone with a bit of post-war trauma, I wonder? His actions also shamed Hufflepuff House, a noble and loyal House that fought bravely in the war. Not only this act, but his act of cowardice in the face of the enemy when the Death Eaters attacked. I would hope that he mends his ways in the future.**_

**But what about Rita Skeeter? Is it true that she attacked your ward, Dennis?**

_**She did. Again, I asked her to leave us alone, but she refused to do so. It didn't seem to matter to her that Dennis had been extremely traumatized, and that she was only making things worse. This woman seems to have had a vendetta against me since my Fourth Year, and I honestly don't know why – other than, perhaps, my refusal to perform, erm, intimate favors in the cupboard during our first private interview?**_

**But she is indeed an Animagus beetle?**

_**She is, and we discovered this in Fourth Year. However, we didn't tell, because we were afraid of further retaliation. We didn't know it was illegal at the time, to not be registered, sir. Keep in mind, we were fourteen – the same age as Dennis and many others that endured last term.**_

**And the rumor of your ward using an Unforgivable Curse, or even Goblin magic? Is Dennis part Goblin, as he's so small, then?**

_**Honestly, I laugh at the idea of a Fourth Year boy being able to cast **any** Curse, must less one of the BIG ones, wordlessly, sir. As for him being a Goblin, no, he's just small, which, I believe, led the Carrows and their others to picking on him so much more. Well, it did sort of backfire, as he did repel Rita after she assaulted him. Turns out, they did teach them a few good tricks! Dennis acted in self defence, and Dean and I stand by this. One shudders to think what these new Fifth Years will do on their OWL exams?**_

**About your incident, shall we say, at the bank? You've settled with Gringotts?**

_**We have. It was unfortunate that Mr. Balfor tried to attack me, but again, I warned him. Bill Weasley is witness to the fact that Balfor pretty much committed suicide. But yes, we've made amends. Mr. Hornbeak negotiated shrewdly, and that's all settled.**_

**And what of the fate of Slytherin House? There are rumors that it is to disbanded and done away with?**

_**Untrue. While Professor Slughorn had requested retirement this term, he's decided to come back and head up Slytherin House. He was quite upset, and he has every right to be. But he's needed, and he knows that. The children who return, and the new Sortees into Slytherin, will need him. Will need US. Even though Salazar Slytherin left the school, I think it would besmirch the legacy of Hogwarts to try and do away with one of the four Founded Houses.**_

**And what of these students, from Slytherin? Is it true that not one of them stayed behind to help fight?**

_**Not true. As I intimated before, I believe that Draco Malfoy was, in his own way, turning on the Dark Lord. He passed up two chances to kill me, and he could very well have killed Albus Dumbledore. He chose not to. In his own way, I believe that Draco was the only one who was, in some way, trying to help us. Even though he was under threat of death, and to his family as well, he still did what he did for our cause.**_

"Malfoy?!" Ron exclaimed. "Seriously? You told him _that_?!"

"Shut up, Ron," Harry read on:

**Is it true that all Slytherin students were expelled from the castle after the battle?**

_**They were taken into Auror custody for their own protection. Some have gone home, some have been placed in the new children's shelter in Hogsmeade Village, and a few older ones have been detained by the Ministry, pending an inquiry into their actions during the war. A very few sustained injuries, and were sent to St. Mungo's. We do have one boy, Cameron Avery, who has been examined by the best Healers, but remains in a catatonic state due to extreme emotional trauma. We're doing all we can for him, and hope that he recovers. I would state again, for the record, that Slytherin House will remain intact, and all students not convicted of any crimes related to the war are welcome to come back next term. We are not, as some people have speculated, giving them all a one-way Knight Bus ticket to Durmstrang! However, we will not stop any who wish to do so. Viktor Krum, who has graciously come to assist us with his brothers of ours from the East, has guaranteed anyone a place there who wishes to go. We hope they don't, though.**_

**We've gotten recent news that the Malfoy estate, and manor house, are to be turned into a shelter for homeless families or orphaned children? Can you elaborate?**

_**None of this was the fault of the children. They're simply products of their upbringing. Children learn what they're raised with, and unfortunately, these children were raised with biased beliefs and an intolerance of that which their families did not appreciate. It's sad, really. We hope we can remedy this, so that this does not happen again.  
As for Malfoy Manor, yes, it will serve as a shelter for any magical citizens who need it. Any children not placed at the Hogsmeade shelter will board there, when not at Hogwarts. Of course, we'll do everything in our power to place them in a good home.**_

**So Hogwarts will be open for business on September the first? Will you be the new DADA teacher?**

_**Yes, and yes. Hopefully, I can break the rumored 'curse' on that job! [laughter] Repairs to the castle will be finished then, we're confident.**_

**It sounds as if you'll certainly have your hands full, Mr. Potter? Teaching DADA, Auror training, and raising two children, too?**

_**I certainly will! I consider myself lucky, though, in that I'll be here with my children, while everyone else has to wait for Christmas holidays.**_

He paused to look at Dennis, who was now looking at him instead of the magazine.

"You really _mean _that?" The boy asked.

Harry nodded.

"I love you, Harry," Dennis whispered in his ear, hugging him again.

_This is how my parents must have felt, in those pictures Hagrid gave me.  
How can anyone look at a child and not love him?  
How could the Dursleys have hated me so?  
I was just a baby.  
He's happy, he feels safe with me, and he still cries?  
Would he act like this, if we hadn't modified his memory?  
Is this the same thing I feel towards Ginny? It's not quite the same.  
I cried when I first held Teddy?  
Is this what love feels like, then?_

"I love you too, Denny," Harry whispered back, closing his eyes.

"That's so sweet," Ron chuckled. "We love you, too, Harry!"

_Are you really Harry Potter?_ [pp. 123, SS]  
_The giant chessboard..._  
_Here I go - now, don't hang around once you've won! _[pp. 352, SS]_  
He moved forward, and the queen took him...we just left him there...  
You're a Parselmouth?!  
He followed you into the Forest, with the spiders.  
HARRY! He screamed my name, and reached for me, when Padfoot grabbed him...  
You forgave him in Fourth Year, as bad he hurt you.  
He went with you to the Department of Mysteries.  
He got the poison meant for you.  
He PolyJuiced himself to **be** you...he risked his life for you...  
He abandoned us!  
He came back...and saved your life.  
He must have watched over you, while you were sleeping, enough to learn a few phrases of Parseltongue. He knew to get a Basilisk fang from the Chamber._

"I...I love you guys, too," Harry mumbled, still holding Dennis. "I never knew it – until now. Until Ginny explained it to me."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Harry?" Dennis gasped. Harry opened his eyes to look at him. "I can't breathe!"

Harry let go of him. "Sorry!"

"Right then, but no group hugs," Ron insisted.

"You're no fun," Dean sniffed.

Neville looked perplexed. "Too bad Seamus wasn't here to hear that," He finally managed.

"We'll send him a bloody owl!" Ron exclaimed, his entire head pink. "Merlin, can you imagine how my life would have been different if Fred and George had just let me sit with _them_ on the train seven years ago?!"

"Can you imagine how it would have turned out if I'd _taken_ Draco's hand?" Harry added, and Ron shivered.

"NO!" Ron almost yelled it. "Merlin's beard! You'd have sorted into Slytherin, you and Malfoy would have become best friends, you'd have spent summer's ends with him, and not me, and been handed right over to Voldemort by the end of Third Year, I'd bet!"

"You'd have had a nice, quiet school career, though?" Harry grinned.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I should check myself into the mental ward! Would _Malfoy _have got you across that chessboard? Would he have gone into the Chamber of Secrets with you? Would he have defended Sirius Black with you, or been sunk in the Black Lake for you to save? Or gone into the Department of Mysteries with you? To say nothing of...of..." Ron spluttered, waving his hands about, "Would **he **have done_ anything_ that I did, with you?"

"No," Harry said softly.

"Is there more article?" Dean asked, hastily changing the subject.

"Yes," Harry replied quickly, feeling, he imagined, like Ron looked. "There's a bit more about me, and an article on Dennis' dealings with the Goblins. There's also a piece about the Peruvian Fire-breathing Sloth, more on Malfoy Manor and the orphans, and..."

"Really?! Just..._really_?!" Ron cut across him, his face incredulous, "The sloths? What about the Snorkacks? The Nargles?"

"What's a Snork-klack?" Dennis asked.

Neville was laughing. "Something that I think even Luna doesn't believe in anymore! An imaginary creature dreamed up by Mr. Lovegood, Dennis."

"Is it just me?" Dean asked, "Or is Luna not so...Luna-ish anymore?"

"I think we're _all_ not so much ourselves anymore," Neville decided.

"I know I'm not," Dennis sighed.

"I think that's enough for tonight," Harry decided, tossing the magazine to Ron. He tucked Dennis back in.

"But what if I have to _pee_? I can't get up!" Dennis protested, looking panicked. Harry smiled and released the Charm.

"Don't worry, your new sheets will do that _for_ you," Ron teased him.

"No WWW-sheets!" Dennis almost jumped out of bed. "Test 'em on somebody else!"

"I'm kidding!" Ron assured him. "We'd never do that you, kid."

"Promise?" Dennis asked nervously, and Harry reminded himself that not only Dennis, but many of the other students as well, still had a long recovery ahead. If only it were so easy to make them all forget.

"I promise," Ron assured him.

Harry settled him back in, kissed his forehead, then closed his curtains.

"Not the front one!" Dennis protested.

"Dennis, it's all right. You have to learn. You're safe now," Harry assured him.

Once his curtains were closed, Dennis got comfortable, making sure his back was to the wall. He closed his eyes, but everything was pink. When he opened them, he saw that the ruby in his Cuff was glowing. The Cuff was cold, and it was always warm before. He snapped his fingers, the Cuff vanished, and Dennis pulled his blanket up and went to sleep.

"Father, I thought you gave that Cuff to the human boy?" A small Goblin child asked, as Hornbeak put his child to bed.

Hornbeak cocked his head, staring in surprise at the Cuff that had just appeared on the night stand. The ruby was glowing, but it went out as he touched it.

"I _did_ give it to him? And he even understood that we get it back someday? I wonder why he took it off when it was warning him of danger?" Hornbeak sniffed.

"Human children are very strange, aren't they, father?" The child asked.

"They are indeed," Hornbeak agreed.

It was quite late when Harry closed the book and yawned. He'd had such a good run lately, at getting to sleep. In fact, better than he ever had before. Now, once again, it seemed that sleep was something that eluded him. He secured Draco's copy of _**Blackeste Majickes**_, telling himself that it was no wonder he couldn't sleep. In fact, he thought, he'd probably have nightmares, given some of the things he'd read._ And just what the hell was Draco doing reading this thing? Just owning a copy is illegal!_

But he did sleep, eventually.

In the dream, he heard screaming. A man was screaming. He was screaming and begging them to stop. He pleaded. He claimed he'd do anything to make them stop. He sounded almost childish. Then there was a lull in the screaming, and labored panting.

Then sobbing.

Harry Potter smiled, looking around into the never-ending mists.

"Every day," he whispered to himself, "For the rest of your miserable life, Jugson!"

"Not a _bad _choice, really," that familiar disembodied voice said to him, "Perhaps I'll meet up with him _sooner_, rather than later? Thank you, Master!"

"Who _are_ you?" Harry asked it again.

"Master of all, slave to one," The voice replied. "I hate you, you know."

"Why?" Harry asked, not that he was unaccustomed to hatred.

"Because you are the Inheritor. You are the _last_."

The last _what_?" Harry demanded, growing irritated.

"The last of many things," the voice replied, and although he could not see it, Harry knew that it was gone.

He never knew how long he'd wander in the mists of the dreamscape, until he'd finally grow tired of it and wake himself up. Perhaps this time, he'd go on. He needed sleep, as he had to report to Kingsley in the morning. He'd be up and gone before Dennis awoke. He wondered if it were near two in the morning, or three. Teddy would be up, or just going back to sleep.

_Babies sleep an awful lot_, Harry thought.

"_I _will, forever - at least, _here,_ I will wait," Another voice then said, as if in response to Harry's thoughts.

"Hello?" Harry asked the mists.

"Goodbye," the new voice replied, and he realized that it was a child's voice.

"Who are you?" Harry called.

"I was the one who was waiting, until _you_ came along," the voice replied, "But I can't wait forever. Treasure him when _he_ comes, Harry Potter, because thanks to you, I never will. He'll miss me."

"How can he miss you if he never gets to know you? Hang on! Who is_ he_?!"

As then mists then grew brighter, Harry suddenly found himself corporeal again, standing in a clearing. He flinched in surprise, and looked down to see his bare feet standing on a surface composed of mist. It was as if he were walking on a cloud. _Just because it's taking place in your head, Harry, why should that not mean that it's not real_? He recalled Dumbledore's words.

"When I was technically dead," Harry gasped.

Then he was surrounded by children.

The boy from Malfoy Manor, little blue-eyed Draco, was staring back at him, accusing him, it seemed. Only his hair was shorter than Draco's, and his cheeks rosier.

A brown-haired and thinner Dudley, but with a smaller nose was staring at him.  
But why would he be dreaming of a thin Dudley?  
_I...I don't think you're a waste of space, Harry,_ he remembered.

"Avery?!" Harry then gasped, looking at the next child, as he turned slowly. They encircled him now, there were that many of them. "How can you be here, in my dream?"

"Who said it was a dream?" Thin-Dudley asked.

"I exist here now," Cameron Avery said sadly. "You will exist here someday."

"He _does_ exist here," Mini-Draco countered.

"It's not linear," 'Dudley' added.

Harry shuddered, as 'Dudley' repeated Colin's words to Dennis.

"Why would I be dreaming of _you_?" Harry asked again, bluntly.

Cameron shrugged. "I don't know. _You_ brought me here. But_ you _don't care about _me._"

"That's not true!" Harry gasped.

"Isn't it?" Another voice asked from behind him, and Harry turned to see that smaller version of himself – the version with the oddly green left eye and rectangular glasses that he'd last seen in Malfoy Manor. "It's not fair, you know."

"What's not fair?" Harry asked his smaller, slightly different, self.

"Why is one child so loved, when another could die without anyone shedding a single tear for him?" Mini-Harry asked, brushing aside his messy black hair.

There was no scar on his forehead.

"We exist here," A little girl offered, and Harry saw a child that very much resembled Hermione, only with blonde hair. She could have been the first boy's sister. "And _only_ here, thanks to you." She sighed. "_I_ never had much of a chance, anyway. It was far too complicated."

"Where _you_ go, Death follows," Another said, and Harry could hear his harsh Irish brogue. It was like Seamus when he got excited, and you couldn't understand him; or when he decided to speak in ancient Gaelic.

The boy looked so very much like Seamus Finnigan – Firstie Seamus, crewcut and all. A little girl walked up beside him, but Harry didn't know her. She said nothing.

"_I'm _coming, though," another boy announced, and Harry looked to his left to see a boy with caramel-colored skin and cornrow-braided hair so deeply red that it was almost black. His freckles were out of place on his skin tone, Harry thought, staring at his glittering blue eyes.

He knew those eyes.

"And I won't be the only one," the biracial boy added.

"_He'll _get to stay longer, though," Mini-Harry cut across him. "I _would_ have got to stay, if you hadn't..." he pointed at Blue-eyed Draco.

"Hadn't what? Tell me, and I won't do it!" Harry exclaimed.

"I could have saved him ... I _did _save him," Mini-Draco decided. "Many times – and he, me. But never again. You've _already _done it, Mr. Potter. You will do it _again_. You're doing it now. You've already _made_ that choice!"

And then Mini-Draco's piercing, beautiful eyes filled with tears. He nodded to the Mini-Harry, then vanished into a puff of white smoke.

"WAIT!" Harry called after him.

But he was gone.

"Why can't you stay longer?" Harry asked his smaller self, who seemed much younger now. His left eye was normal, and his skin not so smooth. He wasn't wearing glasses now. He was shorter, perhaps only six or seven. But as Harry stared at him, blood began to seep from his nose, his ears, and finally, as Harry stared in horror, tears of blood ran down his scraped and raw cheeks.

He remembered the sound and feel of his own arm breaking, in his Second Year.

He heard and felt it again.

And as Mini-Harry screamed in pain, he too vanished – just as Mini-Draco had.

"See ya 'round!" The biracial boy then waved to him, as he too vanished. "I'll be baaaaack!" His ghostly laugh echoed slowly away into the mists.

Harry heard crying. No, it was more like sobbing. He realized that he'd heard a lot of that lately, and he was growing weary of it. It didn't matter, then, to him, what had happened. It didn't matter that there were good reasons to cry.

He couldn't.

It irritated him.

He turned to see another boy, perhaps nine years old, this one with unmistakable Weasley features – but that his messy hair was far too dark of a ginger tone, and his freckles too sparse. In fact, his hair almost reminded him of his mother's, from the photos...from the Pensieve.

Only so much darker.

"I didn't _mean_ to!" This newest boy sobbed. "Oh, _God_, I didn't **mean** to! It _should_ have been _**me**_! I killed him!"

"Where you go, _Death_ follows," the 'Finnigan' boy repeated, as he too, vanished.

"WHY?!" Harry shouted, "Why does Death follow me?"

"Because it cannot catch _you_," 'Hermione' added. Then she vanished.

Harry bent down to take the crying boy in his arms.

"Why _him_?" Cameron asked.

"Yes, why him?" Thinner-Dudley asked too.

"He...he's crying?" Harry offered.

"I cried," Cameron nodded. "But no one cared."

"What shall I do, then?" Harry asked.

"Change," they both answered, and with a chill, Harry recalled his last words to Draco Malfoy.

Then 'Dudley' too was gone, without another word.

Cameron Avery was then taller, dressed in new Slytherin robes and looking dapper behind his shining Prefect's badge. Harry watched the badge change to that of the Head Boy. But Avery only glared at him, offering his hand.

"Can you tell the wrong sort for yourself, still?" He asked, glancing at the boy in Harry's arms who had now gone still. That boy then shivered once, convulsed as if going into a seizure, and vanished with a choked sob. "I didn't _mean_ to kill Albie!" His last words echoed in the mists.

Harry stared at his empty hands, glancing up at Cameron's outstretched ones. "Can you help me, there?" Cameron asked.

_I can help you there, Potter, _Draco had said, nearly seven years ago.

Cameron Avery wore a ring similar to the favored one that Draco always wore.

And Harry did not take Cameron's hand.

He blinked, but this older Cameron was now the frail child that he knew from Hospital. In fact, he was still there, Harry recalled, pending transfer to the long-term care ward of St. Mungo's.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter," Cameron then sighed. "Tell Neville Longbottom thank you. At least _someone _cared." He shook his head. "But in the end, it just wasn't enough."

And then Cameron Avery vanished into a puff of white smoke that curled up and away, like a jet's trail.

Harry recalled the Death Eaters, and their trails of black smoke.

Then the white was gone.

"It is our choices which define us," A woman's voice then announced, frightening him, as he turned to stare at her.

"Tha's Dumbledore's line, and it's not wise to sneak up on people these days!" Harry snapped at her.

He had never seen this woman before in his life. She was dressed in lavender robes, obviously a witch, from the look of her. She was quite young, possibly only a few years out of Hogwarts and just into her specialized career training. She was not unattractive, but Harry could sense an air of sadness, hopelessness, about her. It was as if she were in the presence of a Dementor.

As she extended her arms, staring him down, Harry saw behind her a crowd of children stretching back into the mists as far as he could see. She had struck a protective stance, he thought. Protecting them from what?

"Our choices?" Harry threw her words back at her. "Are you telling me these children represent _my _choices? I've made a lot of _hard_ ones lately, I'll have you know!"

"And why so hard?" She asked, sounding as if she might cry.

"Hello?! There was a _war_?" Harry exclaimed, "Or did you not notice that?"

"_I _noticed," She replied, "As did _they_," She looked back at all the children, all dressed in gray tunics, and looking frightened. "This war was why your choices were difficult?"

"Yes?" Harry snorted. "Gods, _why_ am I dreaming something like this?"

"Because your dreams are a world entirely of your own," she replied, "A world of your own making, Harry Potter!"

"You know Dumbledore?" Harry asked, recognizing the words from his Third Year.

"We have _worked_ together," she nodded, as one small boy came to stand beneath the long sleeves of her sheltering robes. He had brown hair and eyes, shabby and nondescript. He could have been any boy any where in any town.

Any boy any where, forgotten and uncared for.

He was quite thin and dirty, shivering.

"What's wrong with you?" Harry bent down to ask him, but the child shied away. "Will you not speak to me?" Harry asked.

The child only looked back at his others, raising a painfully thin arm to point at them with a skinny and crooked index finger.

"_Your_ choices, Harry Potter," the lavender-garbed witch repeated, "And all the WRONG ONES!" Her voice rose to a shout, as she flung her arms upwards. "These are _not_ mere representations of your choices, fool! These are the children that were, that are, and – because of you – are not to _be_!"

Then she and the children were gone, just as quickly as they'd come.

Harry bolted awake, as he knew he would, stifling a shout. After so many years of bad dreams, night terrors, and nightmares, he was well accustomed to it.

It was six in the morning.

Gryffindor Tower was quiet, even the sounds of his friends' breathing silenced by the charmed bed curtains.

_This will become the new Firsties' room in September,_ Harry realized, taking a long look around it in the dim morning light. Dean would move down to be with the new Seventh Years, where Colin should have been. He himself would have his own quarters. Ron would be gone to live in the village above the new shoppe, and Neville would be moving on as well to begin his career. Harry realized that he hadn't asked what that was. He didn't know about Seamus, but given his last year, Harry thought he wouldn't be surprised to see the Irish man (yes, he was now a man) in the Auror training program with him very soon.

And Dennis would go back to his friends, Nigel and the lot of them, for Fifth Year.

The season would change, and they would all move on.

Pondering his dream as he dressed, Harry once again heard Colin's voice: "It's not linear."

He shook his head.

"Probably dreaming about children, because Ginny got me so upset," Harry snorted, as he quietly made his way out of Gryffindor Tower under his ever-perfect Invisibility Cloak. As he arrived at the front gates to apparate away to begin his Auror training for the summer, he felt the Elder Wand in his breast pocket, right next to his own of holly.

He looked back at the almost-repaired castle.

"This will _not_ happen again!" He snarled, as he vanished.

No one saw the puff of black smoke he left in his wake.


End file.
